Chasing Hallelujah
by Lady Shadow
Summary: Set 2 years after Rukia's rescue: things have settled into dull normalcy for Ichigo and his friends. Now freshmen in college, Ichigo struggles with boredom while Ishida still strives to regain his lost Quincy powers. Unfortunately, their two struggles com
1. Title

_Title:_ Chasing Hallelujah

**Author**: Lady Shadow

_Fandom:_ Bleach

_Pairing(s)_:IchigoxIshida, Others

Rating: NC-17

_**Disclaimer:**_ The following is a work of _fanfiction_. It is based on the ideas, settings, situations and characters of the television show "Beach." The author of this work of fanfiction neither owns nor claims to own the aforementioned ideas, settings, situations and characters. They are the sole property of the creators and owners of "Bleach" and all other legal associates. This fanfiction is written for entertainment purposes only and no profit is made from the writing or publication of this piece. No infringement of any rights, copyright or otherwise, is intended.

_Summary_ : Set 2 years after Rukia's rescue: things have settled into dull normalcy for Ichigo and his friends. Now freshmen in college, Ichigo struggles with boredom while Ishida still strives to regain his lost Quincy powers. Unfortunately, their two struggles come into direct conflict when Ishida and Ichigo get assigned as roommates. On top of these mundane issues, Aizen is soon to be on the move...

**Excerpt:**"I wonder what it would be like... to catch the moonlight..." he murmured, watching a large pool of light open in front of them. For a moment, even the concrete looked soft beneath it.

Status: WIP

Series/Title/Pos? Y/+_Hallelujah/_1

Sequel/Title? Y/_Breaking Hallelujah_

Prequel/Title? N

**Warning(s)** : None

_Genre(s)_ : AU, drama, angst

_Author's Notes_ :

1: Expect regular updates (at least for a good while) as I am well and away ahead of the posting curve on this one.  
>2: I was about half way through season three when I started this. For this reason, rather than try to keep up with the story, I'm just going to label it AU and let it drift away once everyone returns from the Soul Society after Rukia's rescue. This will not catch back up to canon, though I will start bringing in elements and characters from canon as we go. This is going to be a long and circuitous ride – hang on tight and bear with me.<p>

3: Updates are posted more frequently to my Livejournal: ladyshadowdrake dot livejournal dot com. You can also find updates about what else is going on with my various fics there.

_Beta_ : Inanimaterabbit


	2. ONE

ONE::

Breaking was easier than it should have been. He stared at his right hand. Certainly, it hadn't been that easy... It couldn't have been that easy. The slightest pressure and everything broke apart.

There was a diamond-shaped mark seared into the inside of his wrist, and if he turned his arm over he would find a similar mark on the other side. They were bitter reminders of his encounter with Mayuri. At first, he tried covering them up with a wide band, not wanting the reminder, but the band just caught his attention even more and he found himself constantly digging his fingers beneath it to worry at the marks.

He pressed his thumb into the diamond, dug his nail into it and closed his eyes when a shock of pain raced up his arm like electricity. He wrapped his fingers around his wrist and jammed the nail of his middle finger into the corresponding mark. Pain surged up his arm in a continuous stream, bad enough to set his teeth on edge and make the muscles at the base of his neck bunch up in protest. Almost bad enough to tease moisture out of his eyes. His hand shook, but he held it there.

"Yo, Ishida!"

He released the pressure and turned his face away. Ichigo Kurosaki planted his feet a mere inch from the bright yellow and blue nest Ishida sat ensconced in. Ishida took a slow breath through his nose and picked his needle up, deciding to ignore him. Kurosaki's spiritual pressure flooded his senses, burned his sinuses, made his eyes smart and those marks ache. He concentrated on breathing and it felt like drowning as he pulled in draught after draught of the man's overwhelming reiatsu.

"_ISHIDA!"_

Kurosaki did not like to be ignored. The shinigami folded himself down into a crouch. He looked like an overgrown toad with his big arms hanging between his thighs. Ishida pushed his glasses up and tipped his head so they caught the sunlight and hid his eyes.

"Yes, Kurosaki Ichigo?"

Kurosaki clenched his teeth. Ishida didn't understand why it irritated the man so much when he used his full name. Maybe it was just that he'd said _Ichigo_, or maybe it was just because everything about Ishida irritated him.

"What are you _doing_?" Kurosaki hissed through his teeth. His eyebrows were drawn in and Ishida remarked distantly that Kurosaki would always have a furrow there if he didn't stop his habit of frowning soon.

"What I'm doing is fairly obvious, Kurosaki, even to one of your limited mental capabilities."

Ishida didn't know why he baited Kurosaki so much. He was being smothered by the man's spiritual pressure. He _wanted_ Kurosaki to leave so he could breathe again, and yet Ichigo Kurosaki was nothing if not confrontational; there was no way he'd turn down an opportunity to fight. So why couldn't Ishida just _not_ give him the opportunity?

"You're being creepy again!" Kurosaki accused loudly. He was leaning perilously close to Ishida, as if trying to deliver the news in confidence for all that he was nearly yelling. His spiritual pressure ramped up as his blood started pumping and for a moment Ishida's vision swam beneath it.

"It's a project for the drama club!" he snarled, trying to keep his voice even, trying to _breathe_, trying to tell the man to _go the fuck away_, and not quite managing any of the three.

"Why can't you do that somewhere _else_? Where normal people can't see you?" Kurosaki demanded.

Ishida leaned back against the tree in an attempt to put some space between them. "You're the one causing a scene, Kurosaki! No one else _cares_!"

"This is our first semester in college!" Kurosaki reminded him. "You can't just go around being _creepy_!"

"I am not being creepy!" Ishida protested. "You're the one yelling at the top of your lungs, idiot!"

"Don't call me an idiot, dumbass!"

"Then stop acting like one!"

Kurosaki lifted a hand and the world slowed to a crawl. For a second, Ishida could see the shinigami's spirit ribbons whipping around his body like angry crimson snakes. And one was coming straight for him. In a sort of panic, he lifted his own hand and slapped Kurosaki's hand away before the man could _touch_ him.

Even just the miniscule contact of the back of his hand on Kurosaki's wrist was like touching a hot stove. Kurosaki's reiatsu stabbed through his hand and raced up his arm, banging furiously against all his closed channels, seeking a way out where there was none. Ishida clenched his teeth to stifle an exclamation of pain and rose in one fluid motion. With a sweep of his arm, he gathered up the bright yellow skirts and stepped gingerly around the shinigami.

Kurosaki remained crouched there, staring at the tree in confusion. Once he realized that Ishida was no longer there, he jumped to his feet and raised one fist heavenward. "What's your problem, Ishida?"

"Don't ever touch me," Ishida said over one shoulder as he turned to walk away. Not for the first time he wished some well-meaning god would descend from heaven and give Kurosaki the gift of a clue, but he didn't put too hope into it.

Kurosaki's energy was still banging around inside of him, and it was all he could do to keep his back straight as he retreated to a safer distance.

~I~I~

Ichigo watched Ishida's back and felt his lips pull down into a frown. The day was pleasantly cool in the shade of the elm tree. The sun was casting long shadows and the windows of their dormitory building looked like molten gold. Ichigo stared up at the windows, counting up until he found his. His and Ishida's. There were a few people clustered around the grassy area and they all stared at Ichigo while they whispered and snickered.

Ichigo knew that his little rant gathered more attention than Ishida sitting there quietly with his frilly girl project. He'd pretty much gotten used to Ishida's strange and embarrassing hobbies. They didn't really bother him anymore, but...

But what?

He saw Ishida sitting there alone, looking so lost in that sea of yellow and blue fabric, and he hadn't really wanted Ishida to stop acting 'creepy' as much as he'd just wanted Ishida to start acting _something_.

Things had been quiet since they had all gone off to college. Strings were pulled to get them all in one place so the resident shinigami could keep a closer eye on them. Extra soul reapers were assigned to the area and the four of them were ordered to stay put and do well in school. It made Ichigo want to hit something just thinking about it. He still couldn't sense spiritual pressure to save his life, and Ishida wasn't being very helpful with the whole finding-hollows thing. He couldn't find a hollow on his own unless the damn thing landed right on top of him. Even if they were close enough for him to hear them screaming, they were usually gone before he got there. He reached into his pocket and ran a finger over the edge of his Substitute Soul Reaper badge.

That whole first year of being yanked out of bed and class to go off and fight Hollows felt like some kind of a nightmare at the time. Once it was gone, he found he missed it. Not the hollows so much, but just the feeling of being free of his body, the exhilaration of Zangetsu in his hands and the knowledge that he was _doing something_. He missed feeling like he and Inoue, Chad and Ishida were a _team_.

He missed the way Ishida's eyes would flash when they were competing. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen the Quincy pull his damn bow out, and everything he'd done to spark some of that competitive spirit in Ishida had failed so far.

Ichigo and Chad sparred sometimes, but Chad was so careful with his fists. Inoue was out of the question. He considered the judo club, but after Hollows and psychopaths like Kenpachi, (not to mention his own father) normal humans looked pretty boring.

He fished around in his book bag and pulled out a small silver phone. Rukia gave it to him as a graduation present and promised that he would be called if there was ever an emergency. He flipped it open and thumbed the _contacts_ button. The list was short. _Abarai Renji, Kuchiki Rukia,_ _Urahara Kisuke _and and entry that just read _Black_.

Renji's number was highlighted. He could call that guy; it wouldn't take too much to get him pissed off and the soul reaper would probably come flying out of the sky with zanpakutou in hand in a matter of minutes. Ichigo's lips twitched upwards and his thumb hovered over the green dial button.

The phone closed with a soft snap and Ichigo sighed. Renji was probably doing things that were a lot more important than entertaining Ichigo. Things that were a lot more important than biology homework.

Sighing, Ichigo settled in the place Ishida so recently abandoned and dragged a text book out of his bag.

~I~I~

Ishida closed the stall door quietly and lowered himself to the toilet, cradling his arm against his chest. There were at least two other people in the bathroom, so he was careful not to make noise as he waited for Kurosaki's wild energy to exhaust itself. He felt bruised from shoulder to fingertips and cursed Kurosaki for having so much damn reiatsu and no control. The man leaked spiritual pressure like a sieve, and Ishida seemed to have become a sponge.

The staccato jabs of pain finally faded, leaving him with a tingly needling feeling like his arm was just smacked awake after being asleep for an hour or two.

When everyone else was constantly around it was easier to keep away from Kurosaki. Outside of fighting, Kurosaki wasn't physically demonstrative, so he didn't usually have to worry about casual touches. Unfortunately, Ishida brought out Kurosaki's physical side, and now they were in such close quarters... he wasn't sure how he was going to survive freshman year.

Maybe he could at least get a change in dormitory assignments... but then everyone would want to know why, and Kurosaki would pester him about it incessantly for the rest of their collegiate careers. Plus, what was he going to put on his petition? _I find Kurosaki's spiritual pressure to be offensive?_

Ishida sighed and stretched his arm out. He spread his fingers and curled them into a fist, wincing. The joints were stiff and he could feel them grinding as he flexed his fingers.

The bathroom door opened and a loud ruckus filled the room as a group drifted in. He heard a lighter clicking and quickly decided to abandon the bathroom before it filled with smoke. Ishida stood, shook his arm out and pushed the lever down with one foot. He didn't look at any of them as he washed his hands and wrists, avoiding even his own reflection. When he turned to reach for a towel, however, one was waiting for him.

"Hi, there, Ishida."

Ishida hesitated only a moment before taking the towel. He recognized that the other man was in his economics class, but he didn't remember his name. Glancing over him quickly, Ishida thought that _he_ should know his name – the man stood out almost as badly as Kurosaki did. Blonde hair and blue eyes contrasted attractively with his olive skin and slanted Japanese eyes, though his expression was far more open than Kurosaki's ever was.

"Daishi James," the man introduced, his wide lips quirked into a half-smile. "Don't worry that you don't know my name – we've never officially met." His voice was softly accented and Ishida guessed that Japanese was not his first language.

"Pleased to meet you," Ishida offered finally. He tipped his head differentially, but James thrust a hand out. Ishida blinked at it, confirming the suspicion that James was not native to the island. He hesitantly offered his hand in return and let James fold his larger palm around it.

"Likewise. I'll see you in econ, huh?" He squeezed Ishida's hand once and made a gesture with his head. His friend doused his cigarette in the faucet and threw the soaked tube into the trashcan. The group ambled into the locker room, leaving Ishida glaring at the trashcan and wondering what was more idiotic – that the man was throwing butts into a can full of paper, or that he was smoking before some kind of physical exercise.

Ishida sighed, but didn't bother to retrieve the fire hazard. It was pretty well drenched and he wasn't concerned enough to _touch_ it.

~I~I~

Kurosaki was sprawled across his bed with one foot hanging down the ladder by the time Ishida made it to the room. He quirked an eyebrow at the man, silently remarking that his leg would be dead asleep by the time Kurosaki woke up. He reached out thoughtlessly to push it back up on the bed and recoiled at the lick of reiatsu against his palm. Kurosaki shifted in his sleep and pulled his leg up, rolling onto his other side. Ishida glared at him useless and retreated, quickly shrugging into his pajamas and climbing up to his own bed.

When the man was sleeping it wasn't so bad. Much like the tide, Kurosaki's reiatsu exhibited an astonishingly extreme ebb and flow. Most of the time it was at maximum, spilling out of his body like a torrent, but when he slept it also seemed to slumber. They had been sharing a living space for little more than a month and Ishida was already beginning to suspect that this phenomenon was in part responsible for Kurosaki's outrageous level of spiritual energy; everything he lost during the day, he recovered at night, and then some.

It was the _and then some_ that had Ishida worried. Not only was the baka a -literal- pain to him, but if he didn't learn how to control his energy and it kept climbing at this rate...

Ishida rolled onto his side and flexed his fingers, staring at them. His hands were ghostly pale in the darkness and he could detect the slightest of tremors. Gritting his teeth, he squeezed the sheets between his fists and yanked them over his head as if the thin layer of fabric could protect him from Kurosaki's damn leaking.


	3. TWO

TWO::

Boredom gripped Ichigo like a vice.

He'd been bored a lot since returning from the Soul Society two years before, but at least in Karakura Hollows were plentiful and Ichigo had the things dropping on his head every other day. They were pretty easy to dispatch, almost became routine, mundane, but at least they were _something_. What did Ichigo have now? An absentee roommate who recently seemed to hate him more than usual, and Freshman Composition home work.

Twisting his lips, he leaned over and elbowed Chad gently. "Chado!"

The giant looked up slowly. The little poetry book looked tiny and awkward in Chad's hands, but Ichigo knew that his friend had a secret love of Spanish poetry and it didn't phase him so much. "Let's go do something," he suggested, jerking his chin towards the exit.

The University library was a huge, multi-leveled monstrosity of books, glass, and ancient battered tables. He was pretty sure that most of the students were there to escape their roommates – or for a little meeting in a dark corner when their roommates refused to escape. Chad and Inoue were already at home in the library and Ichigo would bet money that Ishida had a working map of the place committed to memory.

Ichigo just couldn't settle down.

"Don't you have some homework, Kurosaki-kun?" Inoue whispered, leaning across the table. She had to lift herself up just slightly to get her ponderous chest onto the table's surface – something that the group of seniors crowding the table next to them paid strict attention to. Though Inoue was ever oblivious to the attention she drew, Ichigo gave the table a solid glare, just in case they thought everyone was so clueless. All five heads snapped back to their books and Ichigo leaned back in his chair, affecting a bored look.

"I'm already caught up. Working ahead," Ichigo confessed. He felt a little bitter about it, strangely enough. Even with all of the shinigami duties that had fallen to him by default because he was _there_, he'd managed to keep head and shoulders above water in school. Part of it was good luck – all of his teachers seemed to be taken by him– part of it was Inoue, who was able to reason away doing half of Ichigo's math homework by virtue of having time while he was out fighting. He knew that she felt next to useless in daily battles, but he didn't know how to reassure her. Letting her correct his homework for him seemed to give her a strange sense of accomplishment, so he shrugged it off. Inoue aside, the biggest contributor to his eventual graduation-with-honors was being prepared. When he wasn't fighting Hollows, fending off shinigami, or training, he was getting ahead on his work.

Even with all the free time in the world, old habits were hard to break. And there might have been a little bit of wishful thinking involved, but he would never confess to it.

"That's great, Kurosaki-kun!" She leaned in further, tucking her feet up onto the chair so that she could get into whispering range. "Do you want me to look at your math?" she whispered conspiratorially in a tone normally reserved for dealings in illicit substances.

Ichigo saw Chad's eyes shift briefly under his fringe, but the other man didn't say anything. Ichigo was good in math and always had been; he was pretty sure that Chad knew why he'd been compliantly handing over his homework for the last two years and was grateful that the man didn't say anything.

"Don't trouble yourself, Inoue. I don't have any assignments due in that class for another three weeks." And he'd already done it.

"Okay." She smiled brightly and unfolded her legs, settling back into her chair and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Her hairpins glinted in the light, and for a second Ichigo thought that one petal was flashing gold, but it subsided. "What about you, Sado-kun? Do you need any help?"

Ichigo hoped that Inoue never lost that bright smile and carefree demeanor. He hoped that she never 'grew up,' never looked up at him with those jaded eyes he saw in everyone else.

"No, thank you, Inoue-san."

She hummed to herself and let her feet swing while she returned to taking notes.

Ichigo saw Chad's eyes shift again and followed the bigger man's gaze to realize that he was staring at Inoue. His expression didn't change, but Ichigo could detect a strange softening around his eyes and had to pull his lips down forcefully to keep from smiling.

"Che! I'm going to take a walk. See you two later."

Both immediately started to rise and Ichigo waved them back down. It was strange, the way they followed him. He remembered the way the squad members treated their captains back in Soul Society and felt a little stab of uneasiness. He brushed it away and shoved his hands into his pockets.

"I'm just going to walk around the quad and go back to my room. Ja mata!"

"Enjoy your walk, Kurosaki-kun!" Inoue said in parting. The best thing about Inoue was that she was always sincere. Most people said things like that and they were just being polite. Inoue genuinely wanted him to enjoy himself.

"See you, Ichigo."

"Thanks." He waved, grabbed his books and wandered out of the library.

The evening was chilly, but he enjoyed the cold air on his bare arms. Urahara said that his reiatsu kept him warm, even in extreme temperatures. Ichigo would have to start wearing long sleeves again soon so no one noticed anything. It was a hassle, but he could live with it.

He wandered aimlessly through the grounds, getting a lay of the land. There was already a soul reaper assigned to the campus specifically who kept a pretty close watch on any stray Hollows. Along with all the reinforcements that were added to the immediate area because of Ichigo and his friends, this guy had apparently been assigned to the campus for the last decade. The two biggest age demographics for displaying high spiritual pressure were young kids and college-age adults, and it was a big campus.

The guy was good; Ichigo had been searching for him for two solid months and hadn't seen a trace of him. He hadn't found any Hollows either, though he'd heard a few of them screaming since starting school. He guessed Ishida probably already knew who it was and was probably not going to tell him. Bastard.

All of this combined to make Ichigo's strategic canvasing of the area a little useless, but he wanted to be prepared. It wasn't any kind of angsty bullshit to point out that a lot of things happened to Ichigo Kurosaki that didn't happen to everyone else, that could have happened to any number of people, but that continuously happened to _him_. He didn't bother to complain about it, he just learned to be prepared for it.

His wanderings took him off the sidewalk and up a grassy hill with a small corps of trees at the top and a few benches interspersed among the naked trunks. In the spring it would probably be a nice place to take lunches, but well into October it was a lonely space that certainly wouldn't offer any kind of privacy. He hopped lightly onto one of the benches, stepped up onto the narrow back and walked the length of it before jumping neatly to the next.

"You got business here, fish?"

Ichigo paused, hands still in his pockets. He glanced back over his shoulder and gave the group of seniors a dismissive look before stepping off the bench and walking away. He wasn't really in the mood to deal with humans in general, and especially not the kind that thought they were tough shit because they'd survived a few years of the horrors of academia.

"Hey! Don't walk away from me when I'm talking to you, fish!"

He really didn't like that fish thing.

"Carrot-top!" The boy caught up to him and grabbed his shoulder. Ichigo stopped moving and waited for the idiot to continue. "I think you need to learn a little respect for your betters, Carrot-top." He reached up and ruffled Ichigo's hair, curling his hand into a fist and yanking. Urahara was still trying very hard to get Ichigo not to rise to baiting, so Ichigo kept his mouth shut and started thinking of other things that were more interesting than smashing the _baka's_ teeth down his throat.

"This is senior hill, my little orange koi fish friend. If you want up here, you have to ask nicely."

He tried, but really, beating up assholes was probably his favorite thing to do next to beating up Hollows.

"Ah, I see," he said, nodding.

"There-"

Before he could get out another word, Ichigo grabbed the senior's wrist, took one step to the side and spun back in, dragging the other man's arm over his shoulder. He decided at the last second not to face plant the asshole, and was even nice enough to hold onto his arm so he spun and landed on his side rather than flat on his back.

The stunned senior hissed in startlement, staring up at Ichigo in obvious confusion.

"Was that nice enough?" Ichigo deadpanned. The other four hesitated, but one finally broke ranks and charged at him. Ichigo stepped smoothly out of the way, grabbed the guy's collar and extended one foot, catching his ankle and sending him sprawling.

Before the other three could make up their collective mind there was a loud clap and a tall man with short, spiked brown hair crested the hill and stood there with his arms over his chest. "Break it up, boys."

"Kawagichi sensei, this _freshman_-"

"Go back to your dorms," the man growled.

Even Ichigo had to admit that the guy was a little intimidating, and not much was intimidating after Zaraki Kenpachi. Ichigo shrugged and turned to continue his leisurely stroll.

"Not you. Come with me." He made a gesture with one finger and Ichigo sized him up. The five retreating seniors gave him nasty, self-satisfied looks as they abandoned the hill and Ichigo wondered if the guy was the senior class adviser or something.

Kawagichi was silent as they walked and Ichigo didn't make any efforts at conversation. He was a little ticked off that he was about to get scolded when he was the one those five were trying to haze, but his curiosity grew as they wound their way back to the main campus and towards the athletic department.

The sensei held the gymnasium door open for Ichigo and then fell into step beside rather than in front of him.

"That was quite an impressive_ ippon seionage_," Kawagichi commented finally.

"Eh?"

"The shoulder throw," the teacher clarified. The man's green eyes narrowed briefly in curiosity.

"Oh." Ichigo shrugged and didn't continue. How did he explain that his father had been ambushing him with these types of throws and attacks since he was old enough to walk without sounding crazy?

"I am Kawagichi Yoshiiro, coach of the University's judo club. You are?"

"Kurosaki Ichigo." The words _Substitute Soul Reaper_ almost slid off his tongue. He covered the lapse with a yawn that was real enough.

"A pleasure to meet you, Kurosaki Ichigo. I would like you to consider joining the judo club."

Ichigo gave a noncommittal shrug. He'd gone to watch one of the judo club's practices at the beginning of the term, but it all looked pretty boring to him. Still, it would be something to do... "I'll think about it," he promised vaguely.

He noticed that they were out in the middle of the mat and looked around curiously. A group of gi-clad men were stretching close to the bleachers, chatting in little clumps. Ichigo passingly cataloged their belts and body types, unconsciously sizing each up as a potential opponent and not finding much that spiked his interest.

He felt more than saw Kawagichi shift beside him and dropped his weight into a solid stance before the coach's fist even closed in the material of his tee shirt. Ichigo reacted immediately, sliding his trailing foot up and shoving his shoulder hard into the other man's chest. He got one foot hooked around the coach's right ankle and grabbed high on his shoulder, prepared to lay him out. The taller man slid out of the way with astonishing speed and Ichigo danced backwards, glaring.

"Very good," Kawagichi praised. "Practice is Monday, Wednesday and Friday at 6pm, Saturday at 9am."

Ichigo pushed his hands back into his pockets and glared sullenly. "I said I'd think about it," he announced. The rest of the judo team was staring at him by then and it made him glare harder. Kawagichi smiled disarmingly and dismissed him with a slight nod, turning to address his team.

The dismissal felt more like a "see you later, then," like Kawagichi already knew that he would be back. The assumption made the hairs on the back of Ichigo's neck stand up in irritation and he turned and stalked away.

~I~I~

Deftly ignoring protests that she was fine and could make it back to her room all on her own, Chad walked Inoue back to her dorm.

"Thank you, Sado-kun!" She bounced up the short stair case and stopped at the top to give him a smile, her book bag dangling in front of her body as she bowed. "I'll see you tomorrow!"

Before he could say anything, she turned and darted into the dormitory, the heavy doors swinging closed behind her. She was half-way up the first flight of stairs before they latched, obscuring her honey-red hair from view. Chad stared after her with a soft smile until a group of three girls hesitantly edged around him to get to the door.

"Are you waiting for someone?" one asked, her hand on the door handle.

Chad couldn't quite tell if she was suspicious or not, but only shook his head and turned away. He heard them whispering once his back was turned, but didn't mind. People whispered behind him a lot and it didn't bother him anymore.

The men's dormitory buildings were exactly on the other side of the campus. The fastest route between the two was directly through the middle but Chad turned away from the wide avenue and climbed a short rise to a more narrow path that would lead him towards the lake. The moon was a bright silver pearl in the sky, the stars were beautiful and the night was cool. It was a nice night for a walk and Chad intended to take advantage of it. Maybe next time he would think to ask Inoue to accompany him, but he wasn't really in a rush. If it happened, it would; if it didn't, that was okay.

When he reached the bend in the path, he stopped. If he continued, the path would eventually wrap around to the back of his dormitory building, but he didn't really feel like going back to his room. With a small shrug, he turned down the dirt jogging trail that forged into the bare forest. In the spring, it would all be green and beautiful. Now, it was bare and beautiful. Chad felt that there was something stunning about simplicity and smiled up at the hunched figure of a watchful owl as he walked beneath the naked trees. The creature hooted at him, twisting its head around to follow his progress.

The trees broke into a small clearing surrounding the lake and Chad paused, closing his eyes against the breeze. It smelled fresh and clean, and carried the touch of winter. It would snow soon. He would have to bring one of Ichigo's sweaters down in the morning or the man would walk around in short sleeves all day without noticing.

Chad was contemplating whether he wanted to turn around or step onto the grass when a tiny flash of blue caught his eye. He turned toward it casually, looking for the source. It looked and felt like reishi, but was faintly familiar...

He probably wouldn't have seen him at all if it weren't for the full moon. Dressed neck to toes in black, Ishida stood on a small peninsula, chest heaving, back impeccably straight and right arm extended. It was a pose Chad hadn't seen in a long time, and he tipped his head to watch, waiting for the Quincy's bow to appear. Minutes passed, the wind tugged at Chad's silk button-up and a procession of clouds marched across the moon, casting the lake in their shadow.

The noise Ishida made reminded Chad unnervingly of a wounded animal, and then the Quincy's face was visible in the blue glow of his bow. It seemed so much smaller than Chad remembered and it moved strangely, spiking and twisting, the edges curling and fraying like fabric. Chad's eyebrows drew together and he watched Ishida's face. The man looked... agonized.

The expression was so heartbreaking that Chad took a thoughtless step forward, reaching out over the distance that separated them. Before he could announce himself or move further, the bow gave a sharp wrench and flung wide, striking Ishida once in the chest before exploding in a silent flare of electric blue light. Ishida bit off a scream and fell to his knees, clutching his right arm to his chest.

Rocking forward, the Quincy set his forehead on the ground and slammed his good fist into it. His hand clutched at the tough grass and came away with a handful of dirt and blades. He threw it all forcefully into the lake and yanked up another handful, and then a rock. He staggered to his feet and flung it erratically. The force of the swing unbalanced him and he crashed back to the dirt. When he landed, he was still.

Chad took a hurried step forward, worried that Ishida might have struck his head. He froze when the man stirred, pushing himself up to his knees. His back was to Chad and it didn't seem like he'd been seen yet. Chad hovered in unaccustomed hesitation. He wanted to sit with his friend, help him if he could, listen if he couldn't. But something about the slope of Ishida's shoulders stopped him, and it occurred to him that Ishida was out there in the middle of the night because he didn't want the rest of them to know.

Ignoring the little pang of pain, Chad backed away quietly to the shadow of the trees. If Ishida didn't want anyone else to know, Chad would stay quiet but he wasn't just going to leave his friend. So he sat and watched while Ishida gathered himself. The Quincy plunged his right arm into the cold water of the lake and held it there for several seconds before climbing to his feet.

Chad moved further into the shadows and made sure that Ishida didn't see him when he passed. His mind was already ticking through a list of possible solutions to Ishida's problem, but he didn't even know what the problem _was_ and so had no idea what would help.


	4. THREE

THREE::

Economics was quickly becoming Ishida's favorite class. He didn't share it with any of his friends and he was reasonably sure that he could sleep through the entire semester and still pull off a near-perfect grade. Since he wasn't getting much sleep at night, that was exactly what he was planning on doing.

The professor was a severe looking woman who must have been twice as old as she looked, but had the most soothing voice he'd ever encountered in a woman. She graded solely on exams, and never took attendance. She terrified most students, but to Ishida, her small classroom was a haven. He settled into his favorite desk, bunched his sweater up and set his chin on it.

Generally speaking, sleeping in any class was strictly against his character, even one that he'd essentially taken in his father's study at five years old. The unfortunate fact of the matter, however, was that his grades in his other classes were going to start suffering if he didn't start getting some sleep _somewhere._

_It's triage_, he reasoned with himself for the dozenth time. _Treat the ones most likely to survive. _

Toyotome-sensei's voice washed over him, her soothing monotone punctuated by her fastidious hand on the chalkboard. His eyes drooped slowly closed and he relaxed against the soft sweater.

A gentle nudge pulled him out of the depths of unconsciousness a moment later and Ishida glared in hot irritation as he turned on the offender. It took him a second to recognize James Daishi and he barely saved himself from demanding _what are you doing here?_ by virtue of his sleep-fogged mind having trouble communicating with his mouth.

"Just thought you might like to know that class has been over for about fifteen minutes."

"Huh?" Ishida lifted his arm and squinted at his watch, trying to make sense of the hands. Was that twelve fifteen, or three o'clock? He shook his head and rubbed the grogginess out of his eyes. Of course it was twelve fifteen; if it was three o'clock he would be in the costume lab.

"Sorry to wake you up, but I just thought you might have another class and I didn't want you to be late." Daishi had a disarming smile but it only made Ishida more annoyed.

"I have a free period," Ishida explained.

"Me too. Come on – I'll walk you back to your dorm. It looks like you should be studying your sheets."

Ishida knew there were a lot of good reasons to tell Daishi off, but he couldn't come up with any of them, so he nodded and stretched. Standing felt like dragging a ton of bricks up with him and he took a second to steady himself.

"Man, you don't look good. Do you need to go to the nurse?"

"No," Ishida mumbled. "I just need to get some sleep without Kurosaki."

Daishi cleared his throat and Ishida realized that other man's cheeks were a little pink, but he couldn't quite connect the dots. The blond cleared his throat again and took Ishida's bag. "Right. Which building are you in?"

"Higashi," Ishida mumbled, letting his bag go without a fight. He'd never been much of a morning person anyways, and functioning with ninety minutes of sleep stolen on a hard desk only served to compound the problem. He felt worse than he had before he'd drifted off.

"This is the second time this week that you've fallen asleep in class," Daishi commented as they walked.

Ishida made a noise that he'd originally intended to be an intelligent response. As far as intelligence went it was a pretty fantastic failure, but it conveyed his point well enough and Daishi laughed.

"Okay, you're tired, I get it. Does your roommate really bother you that much?"

"Nnhgn."

"Right... which floor are you?"

Ishida stared longingly at the elevator that didn't work, probably hadn't worked in years, and probably wouldn't work in the foreseeable future. He turned reluctantly to the stairs and began the long trek up to the fifth floor.

"You and I are almost neighbors! I'm just one floor down," Daishi announced, annoyingly unphased by the climb.

Ishida had no interest whatsoever in the location of James Daishi's room, but was extremely interested in his own. He shuffled down the hall without a response and fished his keys out of his pocket. He focused very hard on the numbers on the doors until he came to the otherwise unremarkable white portal that read '525' in tarnished brass. Ishida fumbled with the lock until Daishi snatched the key out of his fingers and unlocked it for him. He barely had the presence of mind to retrieve his keys before stumbling into the room and reaching for the first ladder in sight.

"You gonna be okay, man?"

"Mmhm."

"Right... I'll lock the door on my way out. See you in econ?"

"Mmm."

~I~I~

Ichigo waited against the bleachers with his hands in his pockets. The judo club was stretching casually, though mostly just chatting. Ichigo ignored them; stretching like that was stupid anyways. It got the muscles all loose and reduced strength. They should be running or something.

_This whole thing is stupid_! He pushed himself away from the bleachers and turned just in time to see a flash of white flying at his face. He snatched the cloth out of the air before it could impact and got another white bundle wrapped around his head immediately after. He yanked the pants down to yell at whatever jackass-! A belt smacked him in the forehead and he glared.

"Suit up, Kurosaki," Kawagichi ordered as he passed him to the mats. He clapped sharply, the sound echoing off the high ceiling, and his team was instantly at attention and running for the line.

Ichigo glared uselessly and headed for the locker room. He stuffed his clothing in a high locker and yanked on the gi, but hesitated at tying the belt. White? All those guys out there were brown or black! Hell, he'd made purple before he quit the judo club in Karakura!

He tied the belt with a grimace, pleased that he at least remembered how to knot it, and stalked back into the gymnasium.

"Kurosaki! You're seven minutes late! Seven laps, seventy pushups!"

"What? I didn't even have-"

"MOVE IT!"

Kicking off his sandals near the bleachers, Ichigo settled into an easy jog around the mat. A blond-haired boy fell into step with him. He hoisted a kendo sword and Ichigo cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Better not let me catch you," the black belt announced with a too-wide grin. He fell back two paces and Ichigo ignored him. Moments later, he caught a flash of movement out of the far corner of his eye and was already moving. Sidestepping, he leapt straight up and the sword sailed under his feet. He landed lightly on his toes and spun to face his attacker. The blond recovered quickly from shock and momentum. He brought the sword up again with a glare that felt much too heated for someone Ichigo didn't know. Ichigo readied himself to face the perplexing attack, but they were both interrupted by another sharp clap.

"Get running, Kurosaki! Stop playing with the boy, Daishi!"

Daishi straightened up to attention. "Hai, Sensei!" He turned his glare back on Ichigo. "Move."

Great. He escaped Zaraki Kenpachi and got Kawagichi and a blond with some kind of grudge in return. He almost preferred Kenpachi. He sighed and turned around, stretching his stride into a fast run. Daishi hurried to catch up, sword at the ready if he got close enough to attack. He didn't, and the fact seemed to irritate him more than it should have. Ichigo was still puzzling over the animosity when Daishi came up even to him and smacked the back of his thigh with the flat of the wooden sword.

Ichigo snarled at him, but Diashi only dropped to his knees and set the sword on the mat. "Get down here, Kurosaki!" He grabbed Ichigo's pant leg and gave it a sharp pull.

Ichigo yanked his leg away from the man and dropped down into push-up position.

"Seventy!" Daishi snapped.

Maybe that's what was pissing him off; apparently Daishi had to do all this extra exercise _with _him. Ichigo ignored him and settled into an easy rhythm. This was nothing. The physical activity was soothing and he let the world drift away, quickly losing track of the count, of Daishi and his strange aggression, of Kawagichi's intensity, and Ishida's eyes hiding behind the glare of his glasses. Chad and his crush drifted away too, and took with it the mystery of the campus shinigami. Soul Society and all its problems faded along with Aizen's sick smile. The world was quiet and dark.

The mat was empty and the gym was quiet for some time before Ichigo realized it. As soon as he did, he also realized that he was drenched in sweat and his arms felt like lead. They gave out immediately and Ichigo crashed to the mat, drawing in heavy breaths and clenching his jaw against the burning in his arms.

"Impressive," Kawagichi announced once Ichigo regained his breath and started pushing himself up. "Nearly two hours straight. I made Daishi abandon the effort after only 45 minutes."

Ichigo pushed himself up and dropped onto his back with a soft groan. His fingers and forearms twitched convulsively from the influx of blood and he glared uselessly at the ceiling.

"Up," Kawagichi ordered, rising smoothly to his feet. Ichigo groaned and the sensei just smiled. "There's nothing wrong with your feet. Get onto them." Kawagichi turned and headed for the locker room without a backwards glance.

Ichigo took a deep breath and held it as he slowly got to his feet. His physical body was really getting out of shape... as a soul reaper he could carry Zangetsu around all day without strain. A couple hours of pushups and it felt like his knuckles were going to start dragging on the floor. He followed the coach with a resigned glare, wanting nothing more than to sit in the showers until his muscles no longer felt like they were ripping apart.

Kawagichi led him through the rows of lockers back towards his office. He ushered Ichigo into the adorning room, however, not the office itself. Ichigo froze in the door way, looking suspiciously at the padded table taking up the majority of the floor space. Kawagichi left the door open and brushed past him, patting the table on his way to the cabinet in the corner. "Hop up."

"Really. That's okay. I'll just go shower-"

"That wasn't a request, Kurosaki." Kawagichi turned his green eyes on Ichigo and Ichigo was momentarily stuck beneath his gaze, almost as if something was pressing him down. The memory of Kenpachi's grin flared up and he pushed it away forcefully.

_Che. It's just my fucking arms._

"I am your coach. Making sure you haven't irreparably injured yourself is part of my job. Further, we have a tournament in three months and I can't have you missing practice. So... up."

Ichigo sighed and unbelted his gi. He set the pile of white cloth on the counter and slowly pulled himself onto the table. His arms and shoulders screamed in protest to taking his weight and he all but collapsed onto the padded surface, barely making it to his stomach.

Kawagichi had confident, practiced hands. Confident, practiced, horrible, nasty, evil hands. Ichigo bit into the sheet to keep from cussing the sensei out as Kawagichi's long, horribly apt fingers found all the places on his arms and back that hurt the absolute _worst_ and dug into them like hunting hounds out for blood. Ichigo found himself wishing longingly for Hanatarou's strange healing techniques or Inoue's golden dome. Anything but this...

Kawagichi's hands disappeared for a blessed moment and Ichigo readied himself to escape, but was quickly caught again. He was expecting the pain so acutely that he actually jumped when Kawagichi's palms settled gently between his shoulder blades. The man's hands were coated in a greasy oil that smelled pungently of menthol and was cold enough to make him recoil. Within moments, however, Ichigo was reasonably certain that some blessed god had just floated down from the heavens to replace the ill-tempered sensei with a far kinder lookalike. The stuff was numbing the pulsing aches away and he slowly relaxed under it.

Rather than massage it in, the oil was spread thickly over his skin and then covered with a towel. Ice packs followed and Kawagichi wiped his hands off.

"Fifteen minutes and then you can go. Try not to get that on your clothing- it doesn't come out."

"Uhuh." He listened to Kawagichi's sandals on the tile and closed his eyes, enjoying the chill seeping through the towels.

~I~I~

Despite being told fifteen minutes, nearly an hour passed before Ichigo woke up. The ice packs were mushy, uncomfortable, wet weights on his back and he winced as he reached back to pull them off. Kawagichi was no where to be seen, so Ichigo slid off the table and carried his gi back into the locker room.

The lockers were deserted and Ichigo took a long shower, remaining under the hot spray until his skin started to tingle from the constant pulse of water. His muscles were stiff and they'd probably be sore as all hell in a couple days, but he didn't feel like he was tearing something every time he moved. Kawagichi was a bastard, but a bastard that knew what he was doing.

He dressed and headed back to his dorm. The stars were out and his breath fogged in front of his face; it was a nice night, all-in-all. He rolled his shoulders slowly and enjoyed the cool air while he walked. Maybe judo club was going to be alright.

Something tickled against the periphery of his senses and he frowned, stopping in the middle of the path. It was faint, like a whisper that just barely registered, a flash of light that stayed just out of range. Ichigo puzzled over it, trying to identify it. It _felt _like reiatsu.

Ichigo rolled his eyes. _Listen to me "feels like reiatsu!" Fuck, I can't even feel my _own_ reiatsu! _It was probably just the wind. He brushed the little shudder away and took a step forward.

His foot planted and froze. A weight was pressing down against his shoulders and walking was like slogging through a mire. _Hollow!_ He twisted and forced himself over to a nearby bench. He couldn't just leave his body in the middle of the pathway on campus – who knows what would happen to it!

Barely seated, he reached into his pocket and slammed his Substitute Soul Reaper badge against his leg and broke free of his body. Aching muscles pulled away and the weight on his chest lifted all at once. He felt light, strong, _free_.

He didn't stop to wonder _which way_, but jumped straight up and landed on the nearest roof. Without thought or hesitation he ran east, smirking at the first tell-tale scream of a free hollow. He could almost sympathize; he wanted to scream that way, bellow at the top of his voice just because he could and no one would know. The hollow came into sight, a slender twisted creature with a sunken gut and four faces. All four seemed to be deep in conversation and it turned this way and that as it argued with itself.

"Yo!" Ichigo caught a miniature faux tower decorating the admin building and balanced on the sloping side of the roof. He put one hand on Zangetsu and felt a wonderful, terrible laughter welling up in his chest as the bindings came free. Zangetsu felt warm, practically _purred_ in his hands.

"What is this? A human child?" one face asked. The voice was feminine in the way of a man trying to sound feminine.

"Dinner comes to us! Truly, this _is_ a place of wonder!" Another announced, the same voice pitched lower; a young man.

"But why's it dressed that way, huh? Is that the one?" The Hollow's head twisted impossibly on its neck so the third face could see him. This one had a child's voice.

The head snapped the other way and the body unwound like a twisted cord. The last face was reminiscent of the angry demon-faced mask of a samurai's armor. "It doesn't matter!" The mouth gaped wide and the Hollow shot forward like an attacking snake.

Ichigo pushed off from the building, barely missing the thing's teeth. His feet touched down neatly on the top of its head and he dragged Zangetsu up to cleanse the monster. Too easy, just like in Karakura Town.

Before he could strike, the head twisted so the feminine face was right beneath his feet. He stumbled and jumped away from its painted mouth. "You should run, sweet child. The others will eat you," she told him.

The head snapped beneath his feet and the young man came roaring into view. Ichigo braced his feet and let the movement of the Hollow's mask him throw him clear. He catapulted towards the distant music building and twisted in mid air so he could use the ancient bricks like a spring to escape the next attack. The Hollow came thundering after him, smashing its demon-face into the wall without care. It dug itself out with its dragon claws and spit bricks out of its gaping mouth.

"You shouldn't even bother if you're just going to run!" the demon thundered.

Ichigo dropped to his feet and brought Zangetsu to bear. "I'm not running. You better come at me if you want to eat me!"

It gave a laugh like nails on a chalkboard and charged, serpentine body twisting and weaving. Ichigo braced himself for impact, stared into the haunted eyes of that horrible monster and waited.

The feminine voice gave a piercing scream and the beast froze in midair. The Hollow twisted back and the other three joined the wail like some perverse symphony. It dissolved, leaving Ichigo glaring at the tiny figure of a distant shinigami. Face and head covered, the shinigami was dressed in a long great coat reminiscent of a captain's coat in cut only. The garment was unadorned and black; his only color was a long red ribbon tied to one arm. The shinigami sheathed his zanpakutou with a snap and Ichigo's irritation dissolved when he realized that this was the missing campus soul reaper.

"Hey!" He draped Zangetsu over his shoulder, the bindings coming up automatically to sheath the blade. He braced himself to jump and shot into the air.

The shinigami turned and was just gone.

Ichigo came to a halt in the air and spun around uselessly. He'd seen the shinigami move – _flash step_- but he couldn't feel him anymore and didn't know which direction to chase.

_DAMNIT_! _I really need to fix this feeling reiatsu thing!_ He chose a direction at random and sprinted off, but knew it was futile even before he jumped into a flash step of his own. He made it to the other side of the campus and stopped, reluctantly turning around. Someone would find his body soon and would probably call campus police or something...

"Kuso, kuso, ku_so_!" He quickly reoriented himself and ran back for his body.

Chad was sitting next to him on the bench. Even in as bad of a mood as he was in, Ichigo couldn't help but smile at the scene. Chad, sitting straight and tense next to a mirror image of himself leaning on the bigger man's shoulder and apparently asleep. Chad was just protecting him, of course, but the man was oblivious to how it looked. It looked damn comfortable, actually.

"Ichigo," Chad greeted. He didn't move for fear of jostling Ichigo's body and Ichigo lifted two fingers in a brief salute before turning and falling back into his body.

Retaking his physical body was like picking up a truck. Ichigo winced and forced stiff muscles to move so he could shift away from his friend. He relaxed against the back of the bench and tucked his hands into his jacket.

"You joined the judo club," Chad commented, gesturing down to the folded gi in Ichigo's lap.

Ichigo shrugged. "Getting out of shape."

Chad nodded slowly. The giant worked out on his own and Ichigo knew that both the kick boxing and the kendo clubs were trying to recruit him. The captains of both teams had even gone so far as to approach _Ichigo_ to beg his help in getting Chad to join. Ichigo flat told them that it wasn't going to happen, but they were persistent.

"There is a niginata club on campus," Chad announced after several moments of companionable silence.

"Halberd? Wasn't that for women and priests?" And insane shits like Ikkaku Madarame. Did that bastardized chain weapon even count as a halberd?

Chad shrugged. "I think Inoue wants to join something."

Ichigo almost suggested the dance club, but stopped. He smothered a smile and affected a bored attitude. "You should join too."

"What?" Chad was clearly equal parts interested and hesitant.

"Sure. You're like a priest yourself, you know," he teased. "I think Inoue feels left out sometimes. You should do it with her. Might be fun."

Ichigo could practically see the glow of the light turning on over Chad's head. The man nodded seriously. "Okay."

_Look at me... give me a damn bow and call me cupid._

"Maybe you should take archery with Ishida," Chad suggested in return, almost as if reading his mind.

"Archery? Why?" He gave Chad an incredulous look, as much because of the archery as because he'd suggested doing it _with Ishida_. "What would Ishida want with archery? Did he join the club? I thought he was doing that frilly girl shit."

Chad shrugged and looked way. Ichigo narrowed his eyes. Chad didn't hide things often and he wasn't very good at it. All the same, Ichigo wasn't going to pry. If Chad had something he wanted to keep secret, Ichigo was going to let him have it. Chad was his best friend and more honest than any man Ichigo had ever met. If it was important, he'd let Ichigo know.

"Right. Well, whatever. If he wants to do archery, sure. I'll go so he can laugh at me." At least he would be laughing at something.

"We should get back to the dorm," Chad said finally.

Ichigo agreed with a sigh and pulled himself off the bench, wincing at the sharp ache high in his shoulders. Leaning sideways on a bench for forty-five minutes probably hadn't helped much either. He sighed and rolled his shoulders, trying to warm the muscles up.


	5. FOUR

FOUR::

Inoue shifted back on her heels and peered into the gymnasium.

"All the way to the back, on the left," the girl at the desk reminded her helpfully. Inoue jumped a little and blushed.

"Thank you!" She eased through the door and walked slowly down the narrow hall. There were offices on the right hand side, practice rooms on the left and the hall was lined with old lockers. The hallway was long and forbiddingly cast in the glow of the yellow overhead lights, but there was a window at the far end of the hall that seemed unnecessarily bright. It reminded her of Soul Society and she smiled a little. That whole ordeal was terrifying, but she'd helped to save Rukia-san and made so many good friends! It was all worth it. She remembered pink haired Yachiru-chan, who was a lieutenant, and the giant Kenpachi-taichou. He looked scary, but he was really nice, and it was fun riding around on his shoulder.

She made it down to the end of the hall before she even realized it and stopped uncertainly, twisting the fabric of her skirt between her fingers. This small gym was where the niginata club practiced. She'd seen the flyer for it posted on the girl's bulletin board. She didn't really want to try for student council, so she needed some kind of club activity, right? And now Kurosaki-kun was in the judo club...

Inoue wanted to be strong more than anything. She remembered feeling helpless while Kurosaki-kun fought, remembered feeling his spirit energy dropping away, remembered his pain rippling across her skin and shuddered anew, hugging herself tightly.

She wanted to be stronger, so she could protect Kurosaki-kun, and Sado-kun, and Ishida-kun. She wanted to be able to do more than just patch her friends up when they got hurt defending _her_. She wanted to be more.

Inoue just didn't think she could.

She backed away from the door and the sounds of chatter from within. What if she hurt someone..?

"Inoue."

Inoue jumped and spun, face heating up. She put both hands to her mouth to stifle her startled noise and bowed low to Sado-kun. He looked even bigger than usual in the small hallway. He was dressed in a blue and white track suit and carried a bag over his shoulder.

"Sado-kun, are you here for a sport?" she asked politely.

Unexpectedly, Sado-kun bowed to her. "I would like to participate in niginata with you," he requested quietly.

Inoue knew her face must be bright red and she waved dismissively. "Oh, no. Don't trouble yourself! I wasn't going to..." She glanced at the door and folded her hands in front of her. Her fingers twisted together. "I wouldn't be very good," she confessed quietly.

"We can try together," Sado-kun said. He straightened up and looked at Inoue in a way that made her blush again.

"Well..." She hesitated. _I want to become strong enough to be your friend, Sado-kun!_ "Okay! Let's do our best, Sado-kun!" She bowed to him from the waist and straightened up to smile. Sado-kun gestured to the door with an almost imperceptible shrug of one massive shoulder and Inoue nodded and spun to face it.

_I can do this!_

With Sado-kun as a calming presence at her side, she pushed the door open.

~I~I~

Ishida settled into his favorite seat in the library. It was his favorite because it was on the top floor with all the out-dated, misused and no longer relevant texts. Because of this, it was insanely difficult to get to and was therefore always deserted. Ishida discovered the little gem of solitude after three weeks of combing the library for a suitable dark corner that wasn't likely to be occupied by any of the more amorous couples on campus.

The table was probably a reject from one of the lower floors. One of its legs was broken and had to be propped up with half a dozen musty old books. The chair was similarly old, but worn and comfortable. It was also stuffed so tightly between two bookcases that Ishida had to crawl over the table to get to it. The whole area was perfectly lit by a sunroof and smelled pleasantly of old books, long loved and long forgotten, banished to this unorganized, haphazard limbo in dim hopes of ever being useful again.

Ishida loved old books. When he was finished studying, he would often browse over the stuffed shelves and precarious stacks of leather bound, cloth bound, moth-eaten and otherwise abandoned tomes. Some were so old they were completely illegible, others were broken or had missing pages. There were poetry books with warped, water damaged pages, and long diatribes on ancient laws no longer in practice. He found a copy of _The Art of War_ that was still mostly readable and kept it close to the table for those days when he was feeling adventurous. Of course he could probably find that book at the campus book store, or order it online. It would be in better condition, maybe even annotated or abridged, but something about holding the dusty volume under the bright light of the sun roof felt... more authentic.

When he was very young, his grandfather's tiny library was his escape. His father's library was very neat and ordered; everything arranged logically by author and subject. The man was as picky about his books as he was about everything else; they were colored by subject and alphabetized by author. If a book he wanted wasn't in the color he wanted, he would have it rebound. Each book was entered into a computer database and stored precisely in its own little slot. It was all so sterile and exacting. There was no warmth, no love in that room.

His grandfather's library was much like Ishida's little niche; a collection of things that were beautiful for the sake of being beautiful. They were lovely and haphazard and organized in some obscure method that made sense to Ishida and his grandfather, but to no one else. That was okay; Ishida liked it that way.

When his father became too much, Ishida would escape to his grandfather's library and hide himself among the shelves and stacks. He would examine the little precious baubles and pick through the books until he found something that he liked. Grandfather would find him there later and would read to him, or tell him stories of the old times.

This place made Ishida feel young again. It made him feel like his grandfather was puttering around just out of hearing and would soon ease down the creaky steps and sit in his battered old arm chair to smoke a pipe or read aloud.

It made Ishida feel like less of a failure. His right arm throbbed faintly beneath the long sleeve of his tattered sweatshirt. He ignored it and tried not to think of the faint purpling of bruises scattered up and down his inner arm, or the diamond seared into his wrist.

Picking up _The Art of War_, he let Sun Tzu's world wash over him. If he could no longer fight, then, heaven help him, he would command.

~I~I~

It was fully dark when Ishida forged back out in the real world, forced by the setting sun to abandon his comfortable nest. He slung his pack across one shoulder and stretched his back. His seat was cozily worn, but he would have to smuggle in material for a cushion soon.. and maybe squares for quilting. The area would probably get very cold once winter came on in full.

"Ishida-kun!"

Ishida stopped and turned to see Inoue jogging to catch up to him. Her chest bounced enticingly in her sweater and he smiled fondly – poor, beautiful Inoue, who didn't understand her own beauty, and the effects of her figure. He saw a couple boys slow down to watch her and stared at them hard until they turned away and went about their business.

She stopped a few feet from him and bowed low, as was her charming custom. Her cheeks were flushed and she looked lively, excited. It made Ishida happy to see her so happy. Chad approached more calmly and stood behind her like a faithful shadow. Chad's presence also made Ishida happy; Inoue needed someone watching out for her.

"How are you tonight, Inoue-san? Sado-kun?"

"We went to niginata practice!" Inoue announced, smiling brightly. Her chest swelled in pride and she stood up taller, bringing a smile out of Ishida.

"Halberd? You too, Sado-kun?"

"Yes. It was... interesting."

"Sado-kun is bigger than anyone else in the class," Inoue explained, nodding. "Even the sensei. But it was fun! You can come sometime too, Ishida-kun! If you want to," she hastened to add.

"I'm not very good with weapons like that," Ishida excused, pushing his glasses up. The lights were too dim to provide any kind of shield, so he just turned away slightly.

"There is an archery club," Chad added. His tone was a little strange, but Ishida let it pass. Chad was famously socially awkward, but honest to a fault. If there was any strangeness in his tone, Ishida was sure it was nothing.

"Thanks, Sado-kun. Maybe. I'm busy though, classes..." He let his voice drift off and shrugged. Classes did keep him busy – his father insisted on pre-med (which was also Kurosaki's major, heaven save the world) with a minor in business economics. Once he got into his core classes, he would be showered in homework. Maybe it would be enough to distract him. He could feel his right hand curling into a fist and forced it to relax.

Chad just nodded and pushed his hands into his pockets.

"I should get back to my dorm," Inoue said with a sigh. She rocked back on her heels and looked up at the stars with a little pout. "The stars are so pretty tonight, don't you think so?" she asked in her soft voice. She smiled, tipping her head.

"We can walk you back to your dorm," Ishida offered. He shifted his bag and turned to head for the women's dorm.

"Oh, no, no! Don't trouble yourself! I can make it okay!"

"Nonsense, Inoue-chan. It's no trouble."

Chad agreed with a small noise and they fell into step on either side of her. She chatted animatedly about their niginata class and tapped her lips while she went through an inventory of the store of food she had in her room and wondered what bean-paste concoction would make a good after-workout snack.

They walked Inoue to the steps of her dorm and she said goodbye with her typical bow and enthusiastic wave before disappearing inside. Ishida could faintly hear her cheerful humming echoing through the stairwell until the door swung shut.

"She seems happy," Ishida commented as he turned away and headed back for the men's dorms. Chad fell into step to his right, nodding in agreement. "Was the class fun?"

"It was different."

"Must be hard to find someone your size."

"Most of it seems to be done individually for now. The sensei is very... aggressive." Chad looked vaguely uncomfortable and Ishida's lips quirked up. An immediate mental image of Chad standing across from a woman Inoue's size jumped to the forefront of his mind. He could clearly see the woman charging across the mat like that crazy guy from the Eleventh Division, and could clearly imagine the incredulous hesitation from Chad.

He stifled a laugh and they lapsed into comfortable silence. Ishida liked that best about Chad; everything was comfortable about him, from conversation, to silence, to physical contact. Some days, Ishida was just so tired and ached so much that he wished he could be something small and brainless, like that little parakeet that Chad carried around like a stuffed toy. He didn't think he would mind Chad carrying him around for a while; it was so tempting to rest against the big man's generous strength and it would be better than trying to sleep with Kurosaki's reiatsu crashing into him like waves at low tide.

The silence stretched until they reached the fourth floor. Ishida was one up, but he could already feel the faint tingle of Kurosaki's reiatsu and even with as tired as he was, he wanted to be absolutely anywhere else.

"Ishida..." Chad paused with his hand on the door to the fourth floor. He seemed to be struggling with something and Ishida's brows drew together.

"Do you need something, Sado-kun?"

Chad straightened up. "I would appreciate assistance with my homework," he announced finally, making Ishida smile. Quiet Chad who had such trouble asking for help, but was always to willing to lend it to anyone else. Ishida nodded and stepped back onto the landing.

"Of course, anything you need." He didn't mention how pitifully grateful he was to be given an excuse not to back to his room. He followed Chad through the door and looked around while they walked. Except that the wall paper was blue rather than off-white, it could have been Ishida's own floor. He didn't know why he would have expected anything else.

The stopped in front of 413 and Chad took his keys out. They looked like toys in his giant hand, but he guided the key expertly to the lock and pushed the door open. Ishida had never seen Chad's room before and realized that he didn't even know who Chad's roommate was. He was just starting to feel genuinely guilty when he stepped in and realized that half of the room was empty.

Chad didn't _have_ a roommate.

"How did you manage to get a room by yourself?" he demanded louder than he'd intended.

"My roommate dropped out of school," Chad explained, unaffected by Ishida's shouting. "His mother was ill. He left to take care of her two weeks ago." Chad shrugged his big shoulders. "Maybe someone else will come."

Ishida cleared his throat and nodded, making a vain attempt to suppress the sudden hope blooming in his chest. If he could just move into Chad's room... a mutual agreement wouldn't require that much scrutiny right? The paperwork would be easier, and he wouldn't have to worry about getting stuck with some noisy slob that he didn't know. It could be perfect! Now, he just had to find a way to _ask_.

"What did you need help with?" he asked lamely, unable to push such a simple request out. It didn't even have to be a request, he could just suggest it. _If you want, I could switch into your room...that way you don't have to worry about getting a noisy roommate. Kurosaki is gone most of the time anyways, I'm sure he wouldn't mind..._

Chad brought out his biology homework and spread it out on the desk next to the text book. Ishida slid into the offered seat and adjusted his glasses. The first thing he noticed was that Chad's handwriting was amazing. It seemed impossible that such big hands could write such light, thin characters.

Without thought, he muttered his assessment aloud.

"I used to practice for hours every day," Chad confided. The man was seated on the spare office chair and waiting patiently for Ishida's appraisal of his work.

"What do you need help with?" Ishida asked finally. He puzzled over the worksheet again. "This all looks correct."

"Oh."

Ishida looked back at Chad with a little frown. The man's face was impassive, but there was something uncomfortable about the set of his shoulders and Ishida got the impression that Chad had lied about needing help. He couldn't understand why.

His suspicions were confirmed a minute later when Chad lowered his head. "I did not require assistance," he confessed.

"Then why-" Ishida was interrupted by a knock at the door and they both looked up in shock. It wasn't Kurosaki -Ishida could tell that much- and it _definitely_ couldn't be Inoue. Who else would be knocking on the door at 9:30 in the evening on a Thursday?

Chad rose smoothly and crossed the room to the door. Ishida leaned back in the chair as casually as he could in an effort to see who it was.

"Yo!"

Bright red hair, startling black facial tattoos and a tie-dye shirt that looked like it had been fished out of someone's basement atop brown velor bell-bottom pants and shiny black leather loafers.

"Abarai-fukitaichou?"

"You gonna let me in, huh? People'r gonna stare!" Renji's lips were turned down and he glared sideways at someone out in the hall.

Chad stepped out of the way and Renji leaned down to pick up a box before crossing into the room. He had a rucksack over one shoulder and was dragging the big cardboard box behind him. It bulged oddly and looked suspiciously heavy.

He looked like he'd just come home from visiting America after surviving Vietnam.

He toed his shoes off at the door and hauled his things over to the unoccupied bed. Setting the rucksack down, he reached up to push on the mattress. "Not bad," he granted finally.

"Uh... Abarai-fukitaichou?" Ishida tried.

"Shh! Don't call me that. I'm in a gigai, you know. People'r gonna wonder what your talking about."

"Right...Abarai-san."

Renji nodded in satisfaction and leaned over to rustle through the rucksack while Chad and Ishida watched with unconcealed confusion.

"What are you doing?" Ishida managed finally.

"Huh? Unpacking this shit. Who the fuck packed this thing?" He dragged a black mesh tank out and held it up to the light with a horrified look on his face.

"Right... but... why are you unpacking your things?" Ishida queried since Chad wouldn't.

Renji paused and turned to give them confused looks. "I'm rooming here. SS sent me. Didn't someone tell you?"

"Umm... No. And 'SS' sounds like 'Secret Service...'" Ishida informed him helpfully, unable to keep a pained look off his face. His hopes for a new room were dwindling fast.

"What's that?"

"Nevermind. So, they sent you?"

"Yeah. Someone needs to keep an eye on you guys. 'Specially Kurosaki." He dug back into the rucksack, tossing handfuls of clothing out in an effort to get to the bottom.

"Why aren't you staying with Kurosaki, then?" Ishida asked, a tiny glimmer of hope blossoming in his chest.

"Che! That guy? We'd kill each other!" Renji announced from the inside of his rucksack.

Ishida sighed. Of course they would... they were too alike.

"Do you need help?" Chad asked, eyeing the piles of clothing littering the room.

"What?" Renji yanked his head out of the sack with a single orange sock stuck to his hair. He yanked it off and looked around the room. The man had the decency to blush and fell back onto his ass with a sigh. "Sorry. I guess I'm a little irritated. I won't be a bother, I promise." He rose to his knees and gave his roommate a formal bow that made Chad flush uncomfortably.

To break the awkwardness, Ishida slid out of the chair and started gathering up piles of clothing to fold. Renji stared at him for a moment and then finally started picking up the mess to help. Chad quickly joined them on the floor and the three of them sorted Renji's clothing into neat stacks.

"Who _did_ pack this stuff?" Ishida asked finally. All of it was obviously held over from the 70's. He held up another tie-dye shirt littered with peace signs and flowers. The back said **FLOWER POWER!** in faded white letters.

"Fuck if I know," Renji muttered with a grimace. He was holding a pile of something that was bright pink and he looked like he suspected it might jump up and attack at any minute.

"Well... luckily a lot of this stuff is actually back in popular style," Ishida soothed. He started resorting the piles into things that were wearable and things that should have been left in the basement they'd come from.

"Seriously? Guys wear shit like this?" He held up the pink tee shirt with the word "Pink" spelled out in yellow letters across the chest.

"Well... maybe, actually. But..." Ishida glanced up at Renji's bloom of crimson hair. "Maybe you should just give that one to Inoue. It looks too small for you," he said finally.

"Fine by me. Thank god I got petty cash for this trip. I'm not wearing those again!" He pointed at the shiny loafers.

"They would be good if you want to get a part time job," Chad mused. He was neatly folding a pair of blessedly straight-legged jeans. They looked big enough to be loose on Renji, so maybe all wasn't lost.

"Part time job? I thought this was a school?"

"Many students have part time jobs," Ishida chimed in.

"Do you guys?"

"Well..." Ishida hid a faint blush. "No. My father would probably have a heart attack." Really, it didn't seem like a bad idea. Having the extra cash that didn't come from his "allowance" _or_ giving his bastard father a heart attack.

Renji sighed. "What kind of job?"

"I have applied at a local restaurant," Chad offered.

Renji looked speculatively at Chad and then shrugged. "Whatever. It's not like I really care about the classes. Have to have something to do with all this time." He sounded bitter.

"Why _did_ you get sent here?" Ishida stood with a stack of tee shirts and stepped around Renji to get under the bunk where the dresser was pushed into the corner. He opened one drawer and started arranging the neat packages in the drawers.

Renji shrugged. "I don't know. They don't tell me shit. Kuchiki-taich-... err, Kuchiki-san just sent a messenger to me with the orders." Renji waited in tense anticipation for Byakuya Kuchiki's Senbonzakura to come flying out of the air and swallow him whole. When nothing happened, he seemed to relax marginally.

"They seem to be adding a lot of people to this area," Chad observed.

"Strange," Ishida agreed distractedly. There _were_ a lot of people in the area. Ishida had identified the campus shinigami as well as three others posing as students and five more assigned to the surrounding region who didn't use gigai.

"Probably Kurosaki's fault," Renji complained.

Ishida could agree with that at least.

~I~I~

Something heavy was sitting on his chest. Ichigo groaned – he really worked himself over with those damn pushups! He wanted to sleep longer, but that weight was really fucking uncomfortable and his bladder was ready to burst. He opened his eyes slowly to find Rukia Kuchiki's face a foot away from his own.

He jumped in surprise, inadvertently sending Rukia tumbling over the side of the bed. He followed a second later, crashing painfully down the ladder and landing on one foot and one knee. He cussed, knowing that the impact on the thinly covered concrete was going to cause a painful bruise. Shock waves were already pulsing up his leg.

"What are you doing?" Rukia demanded, jumping to her feet and delivering a solid kick to Ichigo's side. Ichigo tried to avoid it and ended up hitting his head on the bottom of his own bed and falling backwards, hitting the corner of his dresser on the way down.

He glared murder at the soul reaper, now giving him a sheepish, apologetic look.

"Hi, Ichigo," she tried, smiling and waving.

Ichigo felt his shoulders bunching up and he crawled carefully out from under the bed before standing. His entire body felt like it was on fire and he had a splitting headache to top it all off.

"_Hi,_ Rukia!"

She gave a nervous twitter and jumped out of his range. He came stalking after her and she fumbled in her purse, triumphantly yanking out a pink tube liberally decorated with bunnies and flowers. She held it out like a shield and Ichigo glared at it.

"What. Are you. _Doing_. In... my room?" Ichigo managed, ignoring the offering.

Rukia rolled her eyes and popped the tube open. She dropped a large black pill into her palm and held it out. "Here."

Ichigo took it cautiously and peered at it. "Rukia? There's a poison symbol on this."

Rukia waved his concerns away with a flick of her hand. "No it's not... that's just Urahara being... Urahara. Just take it!" she snapped when he turned his glare up to her.

Well, whatever it was, it couldn't possibly make him feel any _worse_. He tipped his head back and swallowed the pill. Rukia watched him carefully, as if waiting for something...

Ichigo gagged and fell to his knees, wrapping both arms around himself. Agony rippled through him like the remembered pain of Byakuya's bankai. He pressed his forehead to the floor and clenched his teeth to keep from screaming.

The pain passed as suddenly as it had come on, leaving Ichigo gasping on the floor. "What was that?" he growled hoarsely. His bladder was screaming for release and he was surprised he hadn't pissed his pants.

"Do you still hurt?" Rukia demanded before Ichigo could come after her.

He opened his mouth to retort but stopped and sat up. He flexed his arms and rolled his shoulders – not only was the pain from the pill gone, but so was everything else.

"Hn." He climbed to his feet and pulled on a robe before stuffing his feet into his boots.

"Where are you going? Is 'hn' all you have to say?"

"I'm going to go take a piss," Ichigo told her over one shoulder. "Don't follow me."

Despite his hopes to the contrary, she was waiting up on his bed when he returned. He noticed that she had at least made the bed though, and grudgingly forgave her the earlier agony. "What was that, anyways?"

"Some new painkiller of Urahara's. You got to be the first to experience it!" she announced cheerfully.

"I'm honored," Ichigo deadpanned. Pain_killer_ indeed. Killed it with at goddamned hot iron. "I'm gonna change," he warned, already pulling his robe off. Rukia hid her face behind a manga with practiced timing and crossed her knees. She was undisturbed by him changing in front of her – she'd lived in his closet for the better part of two months, after all.

"So what are you doing here?" Ichigo asked once his shirt was over his head. He adjusted the hem and picked up his watch. Math in an hour and a half. Plenty of time to eat, down some water and go jogging.

Rukia hopped down to follow him and Ichigo did a quick double check to make sure she wasn't in a gigai. She wasn't dressed in full shinigami regalia, but there was a faint glow to her that meant she wasn't in a gigai either.

"Renji has been assigned to monitor the campus," Rukia announced once they were in the hall. Ichigo barely stifled a curse; no one else could see Rukia and he didn't _quite_ want the reputation as the local crazy. He already got enough attention from his hair.

"It's been two years and we're getting rumors that Aizen is finally starting to stir."

Ichigo glanced casually at her and yanked the door open hard enough that she would have enough time to get through before it shut.

"We don't know anything of what he's planning-"

_ And you wouldn't be able to tell me if you did_, Ichigo added silently.

"-But we've been getting some whispers about this area specifically. Here and Karakura Town."

Ichigo wanted to know what was so damn special about Karakura Town that kept attracting all this shit, but he couldn't ask.

"I can't stay. I just wanted..." she reached out and caught his wrist in both hands. She was two stairs higher than he was and the pull on his arm was marginally uncomfortable. "Just be careful, Ichigo."

He twisted so he was facing her. At least the stairs echoed enough that he'd hear anyone coming. Their eyes met and he nodded faintly, wondering what could be happening that would have her so worried. She squeezed his hand between both of hers and then let it go.

"And don't do anything stupid, Baka!" she added for good measure, crossing both arms over her chest.

Ichigo rolled his eyes and turned around again, jogging down the stairs. She followed him to the cafeteria and sat with him while he ate his cereal, filling him in on recent events. Everything seemed fairly mundane for all that it sounded busy – mostly administrative stuff. Repairs were still being made in some sections of Seireitei, but were mostly complete. They were short three captains and a lieutenant that still hadn't been replaced. The other captains were stepping in where they could, and the devastated Fifth Division was limping by without either their captain or lieutenant. It seemed like they were mostly disbanded until suitable replacements could be found, the members scattered among the remaining units or assigned to the world of the living. Most of the shinigami around the campus were apparently Fifth Division.

Even after two years, things sounded pretty bad. Ichigo wondered at how badly their government ran when two years later no one had been put in -even temporarily- to fill huge gaps in their defenses and infrastructure. It sounded like the council hadn't been put back together either.

Rukia looked tired. He wondered how much of the burden she was carrying.

"Well... that's everything, I guess. Tell everyone I said hello. I would like to stay, but..." She sighed, shrugging slightly. "Renji will take care of things."

He covered her hand with his when she rose to leave. Her small hand curled into a fist beneath his larger palm and then twisted to lace with his fingers. She squeezed his hand once, almost imperceptibly and then disentangled her fingers and smacked him hard on the top of the head. "And don't slack off or start fighting with Renji!" she ordered in parting.

With a smile and wave, she turned and hurried out of the cafeteria.


	6. FIVE

FIVE::

Ishida was sitting in the middle of a flock of girls when Ichigo arrived at judo practice. Daishi, the crazy blond with his crazy aggression, was sitting up on the bottom bleacher while he stretched and chatted amiably with the girls – and Ishida.

Ichigo wasn't quite sure why Ishida's small smile made him want to grind his teeth. He dropped his bag to the floor with a little more noise than was strictly necessary and stripped out of his sweater.

"Those must have been some half-assed shit pushups if you can still get your arms above your head today," Daishi drawled.

Ichigo didn't miss the look that Ishida shot the blond and it made something boil in him. He repressed it forcefully. "Ishida!" He made an inquisitive gesture to the surrounding gaggle of girls and the massive amounts of cloth spread between them.

Ishida glanced around quickly and went back to his sewing. Daishi was looking quickly between Ichigo and Ishida and the silent conversation seemed to annoy him.

"The handicrafts club sews on patches and does embroidery for the judo team every year, Kurosaki." He said it like it was something that he'd known his entire life, and further something that _Ichigo_ should have known as well.

"What do you do that for?" He shrugged into his gi and pulled out the stiff white belt. He glared at it faintly before unfolding it and wrapping it around his waist.

"They're not just going to leap up and sew themselves on," Ishida drawled.

Daishi snickered. "Still believe a little green fairy was sewing on your buttons back in school?"

Ichigo glanced at Daishi and thought that it was quite likely that he was going to kill the other man. Something in his expression gave Daishi pause and the man's eyes narrowed. He shifted on the bench like he meant to stand.

"I do have a ruler in my bag if you two would like to just whip them out and get it over with," Ishida interjected calmly. All ears were suddenly focused on them and several of the girls were very carefully minding their work, soft pink blushes spread high on their cheeks.

Ichigo glared at the Quincy and Ishida stared calmly back. The tension between them was boiling up like an unwatched pot and Daishi was caught in between, a bystander who couldn't defuse the situation if he wanted to, and didn't understand what was in the pot to begin with.

Tying his belt with a yank, Ichigo waited for Ishida to speak or smile or laugh or stand up and pull out that damn bow. He wanted to be in his shinigami form, wanted to see Ishida smirk like he used to when they chased hollows together. When they competed over Hollows. He was waiting for the Quincy to come out of that human mask. He was waiting for sparks.

He _wanted_ sparks.

A sharp clap shattered everything and the moment broke like spun glass.

"It's your lucky day, Kurosaki!" Kawagichi declared as he walked into the gymnasium. He was still hidden from sight by the bleachers, but his voice filled the room with the press of his presence. Ishida looked away from Ichigo and went back to his embroidery. Daishi rose from the bench with the fluid grace of a life-long fighter and they all waited. "You have a new white belt friend to play with today!"

Great. Just what he needed. Some timid little kid who'd never been in a fight his whole life and just woke up one morning and decided he wanted to become the bane of Ichigo Kurosaki's exi-

"RENJI?"

Renji hooked his thumbs in his stiff white belt and smirked. "Yo, Kurosaki." He nodded over to Ishida and Ishida nodded back calmly like soul reaper lieutenants just waltzed onto campus in a gigai every goddamn day.

Kawagichi clapped twice and the judo team made a run for the imaginary line stretched across the middle of the mat. There were twelve of them, all brown and black belts except for Ichigo. Ichigo and Renji Fucking Abarai, who was standing next to him with a an easy grin. Who looked so goddamned relaxed, like he was on vacation when Rukia's eyes were framed with dark circles and stress lines.

"Kyotsuke!" the man at the front of the line called. He was a tall senior with a mess of dark hair and a scar that curved down from the back of his head to his collarbone. The line snapped to attention at his command. "Rei!" They bowed low from the waist and Kawagichi bowed back.

Kawagichi looked up and down the line, considering them. They waited in near-painful silence and he finally smiled and began pairing them off. Ichigo and Renji were brought to the middle of the mat with a curve of the sensei's long fingers and the rest of the pairs were gestured off to different parts of the mat.

"We'll be doing some ground work today. Back to back. Courtesy your partners and mind your surroundings. Anyone who runs into anyone else will be running laps until their legs fall off."

Ichigo and Renji dropped to their knees, simultaneous mirrors. They bowed formally and twisted around until their backs rested against each other. Ichigo could feel his heart pounding in joyous anticipation; he may have been cheated out of his last hollow, but Renji Abarai was not getting away from him!

"Hajime!"

The world slowed. He felt Renji's muscles ripple through the fabric of his gi, identified the minute shift in his weight and spun to follow. Everything else disappeared and all Ichigo could see was Renji with his ridiculous red hair and his wide smile.

They locked arms instantly, hands fisting in stiff fabric. Renji rose up to one knee immediately, taking an aggressive stance. Ichigo surged upwards, closing the gap between their bodies and getting his foot tangled behind Renji's supporting leg. The shinigami shifted backwards and lowered his shoulder, curling into Ichigo's hooked leg rather than pulling away.

Ichigo pivoted on his trapped foot, pulling the sleeve of Renji's gi close to his body as he turned. For a moment, Renji was wrapped around his body like a snake and then they both hit the mat. Lightening fast, Renji curled towards Ichigo's body, getting onto his side. Ichigo quickly planted a knee on the mat so he couldn't get all the way to his stomach and and twisted his arm with Renji's to push him back.

With a grunt of effort, the man went to his back and Ichigo followed, dropping his weight to Renji's ribs in the location that would hurt the most. He kept a tight hold of Renji's arm and curled his head down so the shinigami couldn't get his long legs around it.

Renji bridged up and tossed his weight one way and then the other. His movements were fast and jarring. Ichigo fought to keep up, continually pressing on Renji's floating rib and struggling to get his knee under Renji's shoulder every time he moved. Renji's body was all coiled muscle and experience and he was quickly breaking Ichigo's hold.

Ichigo waited until Renji bridged into him and then shifted, spinning quickly so his stomach was pressed over Renji's face. He grabbed either side of the shinigami's belt and casually dug his chin under the man's ribs. He could hear Renji snarling into the muffling fabric of his gi and smiled, spreading his knees wide and dropping them back so his thighs nearly touched the mat. Renji would either have to get out of the hold or tap soon- Ichigo was slowly suffocating him.

A sinking feeling in his chest warned him half a second too late when Renji wedged both arms under Ichigo's body. The shinigami bridged up sharply and then threw his lower body back to the mat and pushed. For one horrible second Ichigo was completely off the mat and held up at arms length. Their eyes met. Renji smirked.

With a shout, the lieutenant twisted and slammed Ichigo into the mat hard enough to make his vision shake. Their positions were reversed and Ichigo turned his face to keep from getting smothered under Renji's muscle-heavy body. He planted both heels into the mat and pulled hard with his legs while he shoved against Renji's shoulders. He managed to move out from under Renji's body a bare inch, but it was enough. He rocked back onto his tail bone, braced his heels into the mat and kicked off.

The intention was to slide out from under Renji's body and end up on the shinigami's back. The intention was _not_ to have his hips shoved back down with one casual hand. He felt a little frisson of pain roll up his spine and Renji was in motion before Ichigo could even process what had happened. Renji shifted so he was at Ichigo's side, one arm behind his neck and the other laced around one of Ichigo's legs. He started to pull, drawing his hands together.

Feeling his body being slowly compressed, Ichigo put the flat of his hand against Renji's neck and pushed hard on his jugular. Renji unwilling moved his head away from the pressure and Ichigo snapped his knee up and got it around the shinigami's head. He pulled his knees together and stretched his body out. Renji was already rolling to avoid it, but Ichigo caught his arm and rolled over, trapping Renji's arm beneath his body.

Closing his thighs tightly, he wrapped one hand around Renji's wrist and arched backwards, pressing his hips down and putting pressure on the elbow in the wrong direction. Renji grunted in pain. A second later, Ichigo felt two gentle taps on his thigh.

He quickly let go of Renji's arm and rolled away, lifting his leg carefully so the redhead could free himself. They both collapsed to the mat, panting hard. Renji hadn't moved so much as an inch and his face was still buried against Ichigo's thigh.

"You're lucky I'm in a gigai," the shinigami growled into the fabric of Ichigo's pants.

Ichigo laughed.

"If you two are done cuddling over there, get back to work!" Kawagichi snapped and the world came back.

Ichigo realized belatedly that he was sprawled out with Renji's head practically between his legs and everyone was watching them. He blushed faintly and jerked his leg out from under his partner's head. Renji hit the mat and made an irritated noise.

They slowly got back up and turned so they were once again resting back to back.

~I~I~

Ishida hadn't put a stitch in his fabric for more than twenty minutes. His eyes were almost compelled to follow the bright rolling ball of crimson and strawberry red hair, flailing limbs and white cloth.

_Does this look like pornography to anyone else?_ he wondered. Renji was posted between Kurosaki's legs with both hands tangled in the other man's gi. Kurosaki's long legs were wrapped around Renji's waist and he was trying to drag the shinigami closer to his chest while they struggled. Ishida guessed that no one who did something like this could be squeamish about getting close to their opponent, but no one else seemed quite so comfortable all tangled up like those two did.

It was fascinating in a weirdly voyeuristic way.

"Those two are so hot," one of the girls – Midori, maybe- whispered furtively to her friends. There was a scattering of embarrassed little titters and Ishida resisted the urge to snap at them for it. He forcefully returned his attention to the jacket in front of him. He'd already outlined the "K" in bright gold and just needed to start filling it in. Maybe a satin stitch on the diagonal? He tipped his head to look at it sideways. He could start in the center and work a chain stitch out in a spiral...

"_Ma-te_!" Kawagichi called, clapping his hands together. The man turned clapping into an art form. The sound echoed off the rafters like a roll of thunder. The groups paused in whatever twisted, painful poses they'd gotten into and untangled themselves. Renji and Kurosaki were knotted up on their sides with their legs and arms locked together. They both looked damn irritated to be interrupted and the twin annoyed looks made Ishida want to laugh.

He was relaxed in a way that he hadn't been in months. The room was big enough to soak up most of Kurosaki's errant reiatsu and Ishida felt well rested after falling asleep on Chad's floor and waking up alone in the bigger man's bed. He was still a little confused as to how he'd gotten up there without waking up, or where Chad had gone. The room was empty when he woke though, so he guessed Chad and Renji had left early for god alone knows what.

Ishida finally decided on the chain stitch, but he started in one corner and quickly described a spiral. In his mind's eye, he could already see waves of dark and light gold thread coiling up and down the "K" and flowing into the rest of the letters.

"Oh! Ishida-kun, your stitches are so beautiful!" Yuuka declared. She was leaning over his shoulder and watching his needle slide quickly and smoothly through the fabric. She held her hoop at arms length and twisted it like a steering wheel. "I'll never be as good as you are," she mourned.

"Just practice, Yuuka," Ishida said. He tried to gentle his tone so it sounded kinder. The truth was that she probably _wouldn't_. How could he explain to her that this was how he calmed himself down? That it was the last thing his grandmother had shown him, all he had of her? That he, at six, had spent days worth of painful hours to create his first bloodstained piece of embroidery? That he could do this now with his eyes closed, that he could feel his needle like an extension of his fingers? That a tingle of reishi danced down his thread when he stitched?

She sat back with a pout and he continued the easy looping motion of the needle, not even needing to watch what he was doing now that he had a design in mind. The needle moved on its own, his hand moved on its own, and the tiny flow of reishi was like a soothing balm on his tortured right arm.

The class lined up finally and bowed to their sensei. They shook hands, bowed, said their goodbyes and Ishida watched the unfamiliar ritual with his head cocked. When Renji and Ichigo approached the bleachers though, a sudden panic hit his chest.

Having stayed the entire practice, Ishida would be expected to walk back with them. Back with _him _to _their_ room. He swallowed hard, his hand coming to a halt over the cloth. He tried to think of an excuse to stay behind, to go _any_where else. The rest of the handicrafts club was packing up and the library was closed. He had no where else to go but back to the dorm.

"Coming, Ishida?" Kurosaki asked from the bottom of the stands. He'd replaced his gi with a gray tee shirt and had his bag slung over one shoulder. Renji was bare chested, displaying his full compliment of tattoos – much to the pleasure of the girls and the envy of several of his teammates. Neither seemed inclined to head for the locker room and Ishida hesitated.

"Aren't you two going to go shower?" he blurted out.

They both gave him strange looks and he felt a ghost of his old awkwardness rearing up around him. He rolled his eyes at them.

"Fine. Just keep at arm's length then," he ordered stiffly, packing up his things.

"Bye, Ishida-kun!" several of the girls called. Ishida waved vaguely in their direction and made his way down the bleachers with ill grace.

They were out in the cold air when Daishi caught up to them. The blond glared at his two companions and at Kurosaki in particular. He beckoned Ishida away from Kurosaki's side -Ishida could have kissed him for that- and they walked towards the dorms ahead of the two fighters. Ishida could feel Kurosaki's irritation in the crashing waves of his reiatsu and wished he could block it all out. He didn't know why these two apparently hated each other so much, but was willing to bet it was Kurosaki's fault.

It occurred to him that he knew Kurosaki a lot better than Daishi. That as Kurosaki's supposed friend, it should be _Daishi's_ fault before it was Kurosaki's. He shook the thought away and turned his attention to the tall blond beside him.

"Did you need something?" he asked, realizing that they'd been walking in silence for several minutes.

"Just wondering if you'd go over the study guide for Econ with me Tuesday after class. You have a free period, right?"

"Sure." Ishida shrugged- one more excuse to stay away from the dorm wouldn't hurt. "What are you having trouble with?"

Daishi made an irritated noise. "Just everything. How are you surviving in that class? You sleep through it every time!" he complained.

Ishida shrugged, thinking that he would trade his father for having trouble in Econ any day of the week.

"You're really good, you know?"

"What?" Ishida stumbled a half-step, taken off guard.

"You are. At everything you do." Daishi shrugged. "Do you play any sports?"

Ishida shifted his bag from one hand to the other. "I run." And though he'd never know why he said it, added, "I used to practice archery."

"Oh, yeah? That's cool. You should join the archery team- they're pretty good."

"I'm not," Ishida hastened. "Good, that is. Anymore."

Daishi shrugged his denial off. "You'd pick it up again fast."

They lapsed into silence. Ishida remembered how comfortable it had been to walk next to Chad and not speak. The silence lay between him and Daishi like hot lead. Ishida didn't know how to break it or if he even wanted to. He hadn't quite decided if he liked James Daishi yet, though just about anyone's company would be better than dealing with Kurosaki's leaking.

Renji saved him from the mounting awkwardness by colliding with his back. He wrapped an arm around Ishida's shoulders and put himself between Ishida and Daishi with casual grace. Daishi didn't seem as annoyed by the interruption as Ishida would have thought. He did glare bloody murder when Kurosaki appeared on Ishida's right side though. Ishida casually moved his duffel bag so it worked like a buffer between them.

_These guys and their fucking testosterone!_ Ishida thought, irritated. _They both need to be fixed!_

"Ishida, you should come with me tomorrow," Renji said. It was less a request and more a command.

Ishida hiked an eyebrow. "Where?"

"Shopping. You know clothes and shit, right? I'm not wearing those damn things that those fuckers in Su-...dad packed." He tossed a sideways look at Daishi, who only arched an eyebrow at him.

"Right. Ishida, I'll see you on Tuesday, I have to go."

"Good night."

Daishi lifted one hand and fell back, turning towards the track.

"What's that guy's problem?" Renji muttered once Daishi's footsteps faded. Ishida shrugged and Renji lifted his arm away and tucked his thumbs into his gi pants. His belt was draped over his neck and he was carrying his gi in the crook of one arm. "That guy is creepy," he announced, looking back over his shoulder. "He bother you?"

"No," Ishida snapped, bristling. "And both of you! What did I say about arm's length?" Indignation was wrapping around his throat, battling with the crushing pressure of Kurosaki's reiatsu. He barely knew Renji and the man was going to act like some kind of protector? Ishida didn't _need_ to be protected, and hell could take all _three_ of them!

"What's _your_ problem?"

"Nothing! Nothing is my problem! Just _shower_ next time!" He stalked up ahead of them, shoulders pulling together under the force of the trapped, suffocating weight squeezing him from all sides. It made him feel like screaming, like running, like hitting something or some_one_. It made him feel like getting on a plane never coming back to this place.

He could go to another school. He had the kind of scores that schools _competed_ over. He wasn't a threat to Soul Society with its ridiculous rules, or the surrounding population – _he_ wasn't a Hollow magnet! He didn't have anything to attract them with in the first place! There was nothing saying that he had to stay here and put up with Kurosaki and his childish inability to _control himself_!

Ishida realized that he was practically running and forced himself to slow down. He was clutching the strap of his duffel so hard that he could feel the texture of the strap imprinting into his skin.

_Gods, what's happening to me? Am I losing my mind?_

He took several deep breaths of the cool wintery air, closed his eyes and waited for his heartbeat to calm. He paused until Kurosaki and Renji could catch up to him and then started walking again. Ishida didn't speak, but the two of them picked up their customary bickering and the sound of their fighting was soothingly normal, even with Kurosaki's reiatsu swirling around him like uneasy seas.

~I~I~

Ishida had to remind Renji of where his room was. That fact annoyed Ichigo almost as much as the fact that Renji was rooming with Chad. He wasn't sure why either would annoy him, but most things annoyed him lately. He was getting tired of being annoyed and not knowing why.

Renji waved good bye and Ichigo couldn't help but snap, "And wear some damn clothes tomorrow."

Renji gave him a dirty look and a lewd hand gesture in response and all was almost right with the world.

Ishida was already on the next landing by the time the door to the fourth floor closed. Ichigo took the stairs two at a time to catch up to him, but stayed two stairs back and contemplated the other man from the relative safety of his lower position. Ishida's back was tense and the muscles around the base of his skull looked painfully stiff. He was clutching his bag too hard. Ichigo's eyes drifted to Ishida's fingers and he frowned. Had Ishida's hands always been so... slender? Delicate? Elegant?

He looked down at his own hands. He had his father's hands- long fingers, too-big palms. His hands were calloused, scarred. He turned them over and made a fist. The tendons stood out sharply, blue veins snaking so close to the surface that he could see his own pulse.

Ishida pulled the door open to their floor and Ichigo followed him through, still hanging back. He wanted to know what was making Ishida's neck so tense, what made him hold onto the strap of his bag like it was all that was keeping him upright. He wanted to know when they'd grown so far apart.

He wanted to know when they'd been so close that he noticed they were now apart.

Ishida already had his keys out by the time they reached 525. He pushed the door open, holding it with two fingers for Ichigo to follow. They didn't speak and Ishida stored his bag neatly under his desk before going for his dresser. He pulled out pajamas and stripped off his tee shirt all without looking at Ichigo once, without saying a word. It was like Ichigo wasn't there at all.

Ichigo hesitated by the door, feeling like an intruder, feeling like a voyeur with the way his eyes couldn't stay away from the lines of Ishida's back, the curve of his hips. When had Ishida's shoulders gotten so broad? He didn't really like noticing these things. But now that he did notice them, he couldn't _not _notice them.

Once in his pajamas, Ishida rolled his shoulders backwards and reached up to run his thumbs over either side of his own neck. Ichigo moved without thought – he did that a lot- and crossed the room to put both hands on Ishida's shoulders. The man went rigid beneath his palms and Ichigo pressed both thumbs into either side of his spine, trying to help and painfully aware that he wasn't helping. Far from it, Ishida seemed to be getting more tense by the second.

The man yanked away from him. He was shuddering faintly and clenching his jaw.

"Just trying to help," Ichigo muttered. "If you just relax, I can-"

"_DON'T_!" Ishida spun to face him. He looked... he looked furious. Angry. He looked like it hurt.

The expression irritated Ichigo and he didn't. Know. _Why_. His own anger boiled up and he clenched his fists at his sides. "Why do you freak out whenever anyone touches you?" he demanded, remembering Renji's arm around Ishida's shoulders, remembering Ishida hitting his hand away that late fall day in the yard.

Ishida stalked past him to the door and shoved his shoes on without a word.

"Tell me, Ishida!" He repeated himself. He wanted to know; something was wrong and he wanted -_needed_- to understand what so he could fix it.

"Not anyone," Ishida snarled, yanking the door open. "Just you."

The door slammed behind him and Ichigo was left staring at it, his mouth hanging open.

Author's note: On Japanese words/Judo

_Kyotsuke_: Attention!  
><em>Rei<em>: Bow!  
><em>Hajime<em>: Begin  
><em>Ma-te (matte)<em>: Halt/stop

Request: Please tell me what you all thought of the fight scene! This is the first story where I'm making a conscious effort to describe action. It was a lot like writing a smut scene, as Ishida points out.

I would appreciate your feedback!


	7. SIX

SIX::

It took several minutes for Ichigo to realize that Ishida wasn't going to come back. He tore his eyes away from the door and cursed softly. Fucking Ishida. When had Ichigo started caring so goddamn much? The first thing Ishida ever said to him was, "I hate you." Why did Ichigo think that was any different? He tore through his gym bag and found his Substitute Soul Reaper badge. He probably should have climbed up to the bed first, but found he didn't really care. He smashed the badge into his chest and let his body crumple to the carpet in an undignified sprawl.

Free of his heavy body, the whole problem of Ishida seemed less... just less. He pulled the window open, filling the room with the chilly almost-winter air. Without hesitation, he slid out of the window and enjoyed the five story drop. He landed with knees bent and took off at a sprint. He thought fleetingly of trying to track down the campus shinigami, considered rousing Renji out of his gigai for a real fight, or just standing there and screaming until a Hollow or twelve took notice.

He didn't realize what he'd actually decided on until he was almost to Urahara's shop. The familiar lines of Karakura Town spread out under him like an old quilt. He jumped easily from building to building, taking that familiar path to the crazy ex-captain's candy shop.

Urahara was already on the porch when Ichigo landed in the front yard. The place looked the same as it always did and the bare yard was an unexpected comfort. He pulled Zangetsu off his back, but didn't unbind the zanpakutou. The warm glow of lights filtering through the shop's door seemed so welcoming and Ichigo walked towards it like a man in a trance.

"Come for a visit, Kurosaki-kun?" Urahara greeted. He was sitting cross-legged on the top stair with a cup of tea in one hand and his concealed zanpakutou resting next to him.

Ichigo flopped down next to him and let Zangetsu lay next to Benihime. He could feel a little thrum coming off the two blades, a bare quiver in the quiet air and he wondered if zanpakutou communicated. The thought made him feel guilty; if they did, Zangetsu must have been lonely.

"The sky is nice tonight," Urahara commented when Ichigo didn't speak.

Ichigo glanced up. The sky was completely concealed with clouds, only the soft silvery blue glow of the shielded moon giving any indication that there was anything else. That they weren't shut into some kind fuzzy coffin.

"Sure." Ichigo leaned forward and planted his elbows on his knees. "Urahara... do you think you could train me a little more?"

"Hmm?"

"I feel like I'm wasting away in that place. Getting weaker. Softer."

Beneath the shadow of his ever-present hat, Urahara's brow arched upwards. He brought his cup up and took a slow sip.

Ichigo leaned back so his forearms were braced against the top step. "Soul Society thinks Aizen is getting ready to move. I need to be ready."

"Did you ever think that maybe it wasn't your fight?" Urahara asked quietly.

Ichigo snorted. "Of course it's my fight. It's been my fight since Rukia gave me her powers. Since we broke into Soul Society..." He looked back up at the sky. "Since that bastard got away."

Urahara stood, typically graceful even in his ridiculous clogs. "Well, then, you better come along."

Ichigo gathered Zangetsu up and followed the shop keeper into the store.

Urahara was waiting when he dropped into the basement. Benihime was still sheathed in the faux cane and the shinigami had a serious look on his face that was fine with Ichigo. Zangetsu's bindings came off with a whisper that sounded joyous and he wrapped the trailing cord around his arm. He braced his feet. Urahara's right foot slid backwards.

They didn't speak and their swords sang. After only two exchanges, Urahara was forced to unsheathe his zanpakutou. Benihime really was a lovely blade. Ichigo wondered what she looked like for Urahara as he charged. Zangetsu met the slender blade with a shriek like laughter. They slid apart like a caress and Ichigo described a quick circle around his opponent. Urahara kept his movements small, feet barely moving as Ichigo charged and retreated, charged and retreated.

Urahara easily fended off a halfhearted swing and trapped Zangetsu against the ground. He pressed his foot over the tip, holding it there and forcing Ichigo to hunch awkwardly or else release the sword.

"If you're not going to do it right, stay home next time," Urahara said, all traces of his normal silly joviality banished. His tone reminded Ichigo of that first time, that horrible memory of training to face Soul Society. He remembered the Hollow ripping out of him, that chain eating itself up...

Ichigo gritted his teeth and yanked up hard. Urahara let the blade go and jumped neatly out of the way of Ichigo's retaliatory strike. Ichigo's uselessness was gnawing at his chest, begging to be let out – what was the point of any of it?_ Pre-med_? For what? So he could take over the family clinic one day? Settle down with a nice woman like Inoue and have some children that would be haunted just like Ichigo was? What was the point of all those shinigami all over the campus when Ichigo was _right there?_ He could help. He could take care of it. He could fix it. If they would just _let him_. If Ishida would just fucking let him.

He roared and charged, feeling the warmth of his power wrapping around Zangetsu's. They attacked as one, Zangetsu's hands covering his, Zangetsu's heart beating in his chest. Urahara hastily fended off his strike and took half a dozen steps backwards. Their swords met again, and this time there were no playful noises, only solid noises, shrieking noises, growling noises.

Ichigo dodged one strike and returned two of his own, each quickly parried. They didn't speak, their eyes didn't meet. Urahara let him exhaust himself, always staying just barely out of range as Ichigo chased him all over the impossible basement. He was almost angry enough to force out his bankai, could almost remember the wretched tearing sensation of Zangetsu ripping free of his body, the ripple of all that power closing on him, wrapping around him so tightly he didn't know how he wasn't crushed, how he managed to do it again for Byakuya Kuchiki.

Blood was trickling into his eyes and Ichigo was gasping for breath after painful breath when they finally came to a mutual halt some indeterminable time later. Urahara let his zanpakutou lower until the tip almost touched the soil, his chest heaving. Ichigo dropped to his knees, leaning against Zangetsu. He felt his blood pulsing through his hands, and for a moment thought it was Zangetsu's pulse. It was reassuring.

"Do you want to tell me what has you so angry?" Urahara asked finally.

"Fucking Ishida," was all he could manage.

"You're sleeping with Ishida-kun?" Urahara teased. He neatly dodged the rock that came flying for his face and tipped his head. "Aaah, the joys of roommates." He sheathed his blade and sat down on a convenient boulder. "What is it? Does he steal your towels and bring them back wet?"

Urahara made it sound so stupid and silly and _childish_. And how stupid and silly and childish would it sound for Ichigo to yell, "He just won't let me touch him!"?

The thought broke something tiny deep in his chest and he started to laugh. It was a ridiculous, loud, hysterical laugh that didn't belong to him, but he couldn't stop it. It felt good. Urahara watched him with his little half-smile and that made Ichigo laugh harder.

"It's strange that you two don't get along better," Urahara mused once Ichigo's laughter had dissolved into silent, chest-wracking chuckles.

"Is it really? Quincy and shinigami?" _Substitute shinigami_, he reminded himself bitterly. He couldn't make his lips obey him and they kept quirking up, threatening to spill out more of that insane laughter. The Hollow's touch on that laughter made him nervous and he held it down.

"Did you know that your spiritual pressure is perfectly complimentary?"

Ichigo levered himself up and dragged Zangetsu over to a rock that was split clean down the middle. He perched on it. "What are you talking about?"

"Nothing really, just... it's very much like yin and yang, is all..." Urahara's eyes unfocused like he was contemplating something, remembering something. Ichigo waited for him to continue, but when his eyes refocused again he only smiled and stood. "That was great exercise!" he announced brightly. "Tea. And then bed. You can have the guest room for the night. You don't have any classes tomorrow, do you?"

"Judo at 9," Ichigo said with a wince. He didn't know how late it was, but judo was going to be hell. He just hoped that the handicrafts club stayed in bed.

"Well... I'm sure someone will wake you up," Urahara said vaguely over one shoulder.

~I~I~

Kisuke lay on his futon with his hands behind his head and tracked Ichigo's progress as the boy ran back to his school, his body... his classes and his normal human life. Sometimes it was hard to remember that Ichigo was a human boy, that his eighteen year-old human body -made too strong too young- was fighting to hold on to far too much reiatsu. It was hard to imagine Ichigo Kurosaki having the same kinds of problems that normal eighteen year-old boys had. Fighting with his roommate, worrying about passing classes, or dating, or what he was going to do over the weekend, and what he was going to wear while he was doing it.

Kisuke wondered if those _were_ the kinds of problems Ichigo Kurosaki had. They seemed far too boring for a creature like Ichigo.

The memory of Ichigo's laughter played over and over in his head and he frowned. It wasn't Ichigo's laughter at all; he didn't think he'd ever heard Ichigo laugh. No, that sound was the desperate shriek of something deep inside starting to wear thin and rust. It was the sound of something that was about to break, and Urahara found that he was frightened – he might have even been terrified- by what could be behind that something.

He would have to keep a closer eye on the boy. On both of those boys.

~I~I~

The man's gaze was like a branding iron. Ishida did his best to ignore Kurosaki, hoping that maybe the shinigami would just get the hint and go away if Ishida pretended he wasn't there at all. He kept his back to the door -and Kurosaki- as he fished out a long tee shirt and a pair of pajama pants. He wasn't really accustomed to changing in front of his roommate, but he managed it with only the slightest blush.

He could tell that Kurosaki was staring at him. It was unsettling; it made him angry and nervous and annoyed and much, much too warm. He didn't like to be stared it. The tension was giving him a headache and he dug his fingers into the back of his neck, doing his best to force the muscles to unknot. He was so intent on his task that he didn't notice Kurosaki moving until that heavy reiatsu was right on top of him.

Ishida froze in something like terror moments before Kurosaki's big hands landed on his shoulders. The electric shock of pain was so acute that he couldn't even make his voice work, couldn't make his legs or his hands move. He just stood there and Kurosaki's dug his thumbs into the corded muscles on either side of Ishida's spine.

The pulse of reiatsu down his spine finally galvanized him into action and he stepped forward sharply. His entire body was shaking and it was all he could to stop from crying out.

"Just trying to help. If you relax, I can-" Kurosaki reached for him again and Ishida found his voice.

"_DON'T_," he snapped, terror and pain giving his voice authority it normally couldn't carry. He spun to face the idiot shinigami. He knew he wasn't keeping anything off his face; he could feel his features contorting in anger, humiliation and pain. His legs were shaking too badly to move, but he couldn't stay there with Kurosaki's confused reiatsu stalking around the room like a sullen ghoul.

"Why do you freak out whenever anyone touches you?" Kurosaki demanded suddenly and Ishida thought he might just scream. How dare he? How _dare_ he!

Ishida forced his legs to move, one shaking step at a time. He put his foot down hard on each to keep his balance and hoped that he looked more furious than pained. Kurosaki let him pass, but spun and reached out as if to stop him.

"Tell me, Ishida! _Why_ do you freak out whenever anyone touches you?"

He yanked the door open and tried to mask the fact that he had to lean against it to stay upright. "Not anyone," he growled, and that was true enough. "Just you."

He fled the room. The door slammed louder than he'd intended and he ran for the showers at the end of the hall, hoping to get there before anyone came out to investigate. He heard doors opening in the hall, but he was already around the corner and shouldering the bathroom door open. The room was blessedly deserted and he stumbled against the counter, clenching his teeth tightly as he dragged himself along the length and into the shower area.

Ishida fell into a stall, flipping the cold water on as he went down. The spray hit him square in the chest and he barely shoved his hand into his mouth in time to stifle his started curse. He turned his face away from the water and curled up into the corner, dragging his knees to his chest to wait out the wild reiatsu arcing over his skin and dancing down his spine like lightening.

It had been years since he'd cried, but the pain and his frustration at his own helplessness was threatening to drag out a decade's worth of sobs. He forcefully held on to them, dragging in ragged breaths of moist, freezing air.

He was shivering uncontrollably by the time the debilitating pain faded enough for him to move out from underneath the spray. He undressed himself with numb, clumsy, shaking fingers and adjusted the water until it started to warm up.

Ishida stayed under the water until the shivers subsided. He curled into the water and let it soothe away the remaining aches. It didn't occur to him until after he turned off the water that he was stuck in the communal showers with no dry clothing and no towel. All of his clothing was back in the room, and as horrible as the thought of going back to _that place _was, he didn't have much of a choice. What else was he going to do? Go down to Chad and Renji's room and ask for a towel? He wrung the worst of the water out of his pajamas, put them back on and stuffed his feet into his soggy runners.

Ishida stopped at the counter to get tissue to at least dry his glasses and forged into the hallway. Despite his fervent wishes to the contrary, the hall was not empty and a guy Ishida vaguely recognized from his gym class gave him a shocked look as he walked by. Ishida kept his head up as he walked and hoped he looked ticked off enough for his soaking clothing to be chalked up to hazing.

The boy said nothing and Ishida made it back to the dorm room. He realized belatedly that he didn't have his keys and found himself repeating a mantra of _please don't be locked_, as he reached down to turn the knob. It twisted easily in his hands and the soft noise of the old hinges masked his sigh of relief.

He was shivering again and only hoped to avoid Kurosaki's notice long enough to-

"Kurosaki?" He shot forward, all memories of anger and pain fleeing at the sight of the other man sprawled face-down on the floor. He reached out, heedless of any backlash, to turn him over. Though he was bracing himself for the bite of Kurosaki's reiatsu stabbing into him once more, nothing happened. Belatedly, Ishida realized that he couldn't feel any reiatsu from the man at all and felt a little trill of fear.

Kurosaki's Substitute Soul Reaper badge clattered to the floor and Ishida could have killed him just then. He snatched the innocent looking thing up and barely resisted flinging it against the wall.

"You goddamned idiot, Kurosaki." He should have rolled the man back over and let him wake up with impressions of the carpet on his face. He should have, but he didn't.

Momentary haze of panic disbursed, Ishida noticed his own shivers once more and hurried to get out of his soaking clothing and dry off. His skin was pale and raised with goose flesh from neck to toes. Dressed again, he tried to rub some feeling back into his feet, glaring at Kurosaki's lifeless body the whole time.

"This is your fault, you know," he growled at the shinigami. It was annoyingly difficult to be angry with the man when he was lying there with his face relaxed out of that perpetual scowl. He looked so young like that and Ishida had to remind himself that Kurosaki was eighteen, just like him.

Ishida laughed shortly at himself. _Only eighteen? How many years have we been "only eighteen," Kurosaki? A hundred? Two?_

He sighed and rose. Before climbing up to his own bed, he retrieved a pillow off of Kurosaki's and lifted the man's head to slip it under. He draped a blanket over Kurosaki's long body. He should have gotten up after that, but stayed on his knees and stared at the shinigami.

In high school, he'd _wanted_ Kurosaki's attention. Everyone wanted Kurosaki's attention – tall, strawberry blond Kurosaki who always looked so serious ("Cool"), who got away with murder on a regular basis, who acted like he didn't care about anything but placed high scores on all of his exams. Kurosaki who didn't even know that Ishida existed, even though they'd gone through three years of schooling in the same class and twice that in the same school. Even after Kurosaki walked into the classroom for the first time with the crimson spirit ribbons of a shinigami weaving around his body, Ishida had wanted his attention.

Now he had all the attention he could stand and couldn't handle it. Kurosaki was just too intense, too much. He was larger-than-life, too strong, too hard-headed. His heart was too big and too fragile. It shouldn't have been, but under that perpetual scowl and Devil-May-Care attitude, Kurosaki was more vulnerable than he let on. None of that should have mattered, and all of it did.

Ishida reached out and pushed Kurosaki's mess of hair back from his face. His skin was softer and smoother than Ishida would have thought. Ishida let his fingertips drift down Kurosaki's relaxed face, his long neck, the swell of his shoulder and down his arm to a hand that had recently become so horrible to Ishida. Kurosaki had strangely nice hands. They were long for as big as they were and calloused in all the places that a normal eighteen year-old's hands were not.

Ishida let his hand go and dragged the blanket up to Kurosaki's chin. He knew he wasn't going to sleep, so he picked up Kurosaki's abandoned gi and sat down to attach the patch to the right shoulder.

~I~I~

James folded his body over his extended leg and tried to keep his attention on the mat. Uryuu Ishida was up in the bleachers again – all the way up at the top in the far corner. He looked pale and drawn and hadn't looked up once. His friends from the handicrafts club all swarmed up to the top when they arrived and arranged themselves around him like brightly colored flowers.

Something had happened after he left. James was sure of it, he just wasn't sure what. And he really hoped it wasn't what he _thought_ it was. He clamped down hard on that thought, glaring at the mat as he fought to drag his nose closer to it. Kurosaki struck him as an arrogant jerk, but he didn't think...

_Stop_.

The subject of his musings came into view a moment later, the red head following behind him. Kurosaki looked like he'd seen better nights and Abarai was stretching like a goddamned cat. That man wasn't human, James was sure. His long tattooed body moved with the kind of grace and economy that James usually noticed in men who had been practicing martial arts for decades; a lifetime.

James had to fight for the kind of posture and motion that came naturally to Renji Abarai. Kurosaki crumpled to the mat, yawning largely. He dragged the soles of his feet together and yanked them in with a little wince. He stifled another yawn and fell forward. Next to him, Abarai folded down gracefully to drape the backs of his hands on the mat. He let his head hang down and slowly pushed his hands between his legs, dragging his head closer yet to the mat.

_Men aren't supposed to bend that way_, James thought, watching him with one eyebrow raised incredulously. He wasn't the only one. Hisao, the captain and highest ranking belt on the team, was also watching the two of them with a weird look on his face. It almost made James laugh, even though he knew that his own face probably looked exactly the same. Hisao shook his head and rose up to his toes. He bounced, throwing a few distracted jabs and shaking his arms out.

Sensei interrupted his musings a moment later with two thundering claps. His body was moving almost before he fully processed the sound. They all fell in, Abarai hauling Kurosaki behind him with an annoyed look. Kurosaki made a valiant attempt to straighten his gi and stand up straight. James noticed that the school's patch was sewn neatly onto the shoulder of Kurosaki's gi and felt his lips purse. He wanted to twist around to see what Ishida was doing but didn't dare.

"Kiyotsuke! Rei!"

He bowed from the waist and sensei motioned them all into laps. James concentrated on the running and not on Ishida, who sat pressed against the back wall with his shoulders hunched like he was holding up the roof.

He was going to find out what was going on. He wasn't going to let _that_ happen to anyone else. And so help him, if _that_ is what was happening... Ichigo Kurosaki was as good as dead.


	8. SEVEN

SEVEN::

The Hollow lay on his back and watched the sky with a sour expression. Next to him, Zangetsu reclined against the cool glass of a window. The Hollow didn't mind the company as much as he minded the gray sky, continuously promising rain.

"King is really startin to annoy me," he groused. The last time he'd seen the sun was when King was rolling around with that redhead. The Hollow smiled. _I'd like to roll around with that redhead. Nice tats. Nice ass. King is pretty stupid._

Zangetsu was silent, but Zangetsu was never much for conversation. He and Benihime had been happy enough to exchange a few words, a few caresses. She was a sweet little piece of zanpakutou ass that the Old Man would never get to touch. The Hollow couldn't imagine King going for something like Urahara, though the Hollow would have been just fine with it; that man was something else. There was a muted sort of rolling darkness in him that the Hollow wanted to prod into a frenzy. He wanted to taste it, touch it, hear it. There was a lot he wanted to do, but couldn't. Couldn't because he was stuck here and his King was still a young boy who was more scared than he'd ever admit.

The Hollow made an annoyed noise and rolled up to his feet. He and Zangetsu were still connected by a thin chain, but the Hollow bet that they would be separate soon. He was waiting for that, could almost _taste_ it on his tongue. The chain connected his ankle to Zangetsu's, so he couldn't move too far away without the Old Man having to get off his lazy ass and come along. That was okay, this was the most interesting place of King's domain anyways.

He started smashing windows, just to see how long it would take them to heal. It was taking longer and longer with each shattered pane of glass. The Hollow stared down into the invisible depths and wondered what would happen if he jumped through. Was it just a fake? No hole there at all? Or would he tumble down for eternity, never reach bottom?

The Hollow shrugged. "Prolly shouldn't try," he decided. The window finally knit itself back together again and the Hollow grinned as he smashed his fist into it and watched the glass disappear into the darkness.

A few spatters of rain hit the back of his neck and the Hollow twisted to glare at the dark sky. "Goddamnit, King! Stop being such a fuckin pussy!"

The sky thundered back at him and the rain dropped in sheets.

~I~I~

Renji obediently followed the rest of the team to the showers; after Ishida's reaction the night before, he wasn't going to venture out of the gym again without one. He didn't know what the matter with those two was, but Ichigo's sulking was fucking annoying. Ishida looked like he'd taken a beating and Ichigo looked like his damn dog had been run over. Renji couldn't see how anything about college life could be so devastating, not considering what they'd already been through.

He shrugged out of his clothing and ambled into the shower naked. They were all pointedly _not_ looking at him and it made him want to roll his eyes. _You'd think they'd never seen a guy naked before. _

He ignored them all and walked straight for Ichigo. The man was completely alone in one corner of the showers with three empty shower heads on either side of him. His reiatsu was swirling around him like a moat, and it seemed to be keeping the humans away even if they didn't understand what it was. It made Renji want to smack him until he roused out of his depression.

Somehow he didn't think Ichigo would appreciate getting assaulted naked in the showers with the rest of the judo team standing around. But it would be funny. He reluctantly dismissed it and flipped the water on. It sprayed out cold, making him cuss and step out of the way. He twisted the dial and and held his arm under it until it warmed. Ichigo gave him a sideways glance and returned his attention to the tiles.

"Kurosaki, are you coming with today?" Renji asked, stepping back in front of the warm water. He poked at the dispenser on the wall and gathered a handful of the soap. The stuff smelled like citrus. And pine. And something else. It was not an entirely pleasant smell, but he'd encountered worse.

Ichigo watched him examine the soap and rolled his eyes. "What are you talking about?"

"Ishida is going with me to someplace called a 'mall'-"

"No," Ichigo interrupted immediately. His jaw was tight and he was staring at the wall so intently that Renji was sure the grout was going to start crumbling. "I'll pass."

"Whatever. Suit yourself."

Ichigo slapped the water off, snatched his towel off the shelf and stalked out of the room. Renji watched him leave, wishing they were alone, or that he was out of this fucking gigai so he could pound some sense into him.

He rolled his eyes and rinsed the soap off. The pine scent was tickling his nose. _Ishida damn well better not complain,_ he thought balefully, flipping the water off and grabbing his own towel. He wrapped it around his waist and whistled cheerfully as he walked out. He caught the captain staring at him and winked, grinning. The guy's eyes snapped back to the tile and Renji barely resisted the urge to smack his ass on the way out.

All of these guys were so worried about their appearance, about what everyone else thought. They were all so ashamed of their bodies and afraid to look at anyone else's. Renji wondered if he'd ever been that bad. He probably had been, once, centuries ago. Maybe they would grow out of it before they died, but probably not. He shrugged and ambled back to his locker, where the most reasonable of his clothing was waiting; jeans that happened to be way too big, and that mesh shirt over a long-sleeved white shirt. Ishida assured him that it would look fine as long as he didn't wear the mesh by itself.

Renji just hoped Ishida wasn't exercising his mean streak, because it all looked like shit to him. He remembered resenting the uniforms when he'd entered the Academy, but now he longed for them. Simple, mindless, comfortable. None of this bullshit about keeping up with 'style' and 'fashion' or whatever.

He dressed, belted the massive jeans and shoved his feet into his damn shiny black shoes. Feeling intensely stupid and under dressed, he finally made his way back into the gym. Ishida was waiting on the bleachers with Chad and a few of his flock. Renji didn't think either of the two men realized that they were getting calf eyes and it made him laugh.

They all twisted to look at him, Ishida giving him a critical once over that made him instantly nervous. The girls left with blushes and murmured goodbyes and Ishida stalked towards him with a pair of scissors and several strips of black leather between his teeth.

"Whoa! I showered! Back off!"

"Stand still!" Ishida ordered. His glasses glinted in the light and he lunged to snag Renji's arm. In a matter of moments, the mesh shirt was reduced to tatters. Ishida yanked one strap so it draped off Renji's shoulder and started lacing up some of the gaping holes.

"I thought you said it looked fine? What are you doing shredding it up!"

"You asked for my help, I'm helping. Shut up."

Ishida really did have a damn nice voice when he got all pushy like that. Renji quieted and stood compliantly still while Ishida alternately destroyed and stitched up Renji's single usable set of clothing. Chad was giving him a sympathetic look that didn't help at all. Once he finished with the mesh shirt, Ishida pushed both of Renji's sleeves up, tied a thick piece of leather around one wrist and stepped back. He stared at Renji for an uncomfortably long time and then tossed him a black headband and walked away.

"Let's go."

~I~I~

"The mall" was packed. Despite that, the crowds literally parted for them as they walked. Chad and Renji both towered over everyone else and drew a lot of stares. Renji wouldn't have minded that so much if he had Zabimaru at his side.

_Fuck, I'd probably be more comfortable butt naked_, he thought sorely.

Ishida navigated the massive sprawling complex known as "the mall" with startling ease. The place was probably as big as the whole of Seireitei and populated by all manner of strange creatures – from grandmothers hauling packs of little children, to suspicious groups of boys in off-the-wall clothing and obviously colored hair. One boy had green spikes that jutted at least a foot and a half out of his skull. Renji twisted to follow the strange boy's path and ended up running into Ishida when the other man came to an unexpected halt.

Renji back peddled, glaring. "Warn me next time!"

"Stop staring at people's asses and you'll notice next time," Ishida returned with unfamiliar venom. The irritation in his voice gave Renji pause and he looked at the other man curiously. What the hell was going on with him and Ichigo?

Ishida took a deep breath and reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose, removing his glasses. He looked... strange without them. Older, sharper. Renji caught a brief glimpse of the dark circles under his eyes and then the glasses were back.

"Let me see how much money you have," he ordered, holding a hand out.

Renji fished the pouch out and dropped it in Ishida's outstretched palm. Ishida blinked at it, one eyebrow slowly climbing up his forehead.

"Wallet," he muttered to himself, loosening the draw string.

"'One month's comfortable allowance,'" Renji quoted, shrugging.

Ishida pulled out bills and thumbed through coins. He nodded faintly. "Sure, this is a comfortable sum for one month... thirty years ago."

Renji could feel his right eye twitching. It was an old annoyed tick that he'd worked hard to get rid of. Who knew being in the world of the living (and dealing with the Seireitei Shinigami Supply division) would be so goddamned stressful! He would never again be annoyed with Byakuya Kuchiki and thought he would likely kiss the man's feet if he could just be taken off this fucking assignment. Babysitting Kurosaki and his over-reiatsu-endowed friends without even getting paid properly?

"That will be fixed," he promised darkly. The small silver phone felt heavy in his pocket and he forcefully resisted the urge to drag it out and start cussing Supply out in the middle of "the mall." A group of young girls in colorful outfits walked by, momentarily distracting from his irritation and his irritated friend.

"How long do you think that will take?" Ishida asked, calmly folding the bills back up and sliding them into the pouch. He pulled the draw string and put the pouch in his own messenger bag.

Renji glared faintly while he considered it. Supply was habitually slow about fixing any kind of field error. "Quite a while," he admitted finally.

Ishida sighed. "You need a job," he decided. "But first..." he made a gesture with one hand and marched off in the direction they'd come from.

~I~I~

Within ten minutes, Renji decided that Uryuu Ishida was the devil. From Chad's horrified expression, he clearly agreed.

Renji was marched from one shop to the next, where he was hauled from rack to rack while Ishida tore through mountains of clothing and somehow managed to leave them in neater stacks than he found them. After the first shop, Renji gave up protesting and just struggled into whatever was thrown at him. All the shops looked the same to him, anyways; why did they need so many? Couldn't there have just been one big one instead of dozens and dozens of little ones?

With a stack of clothing stretched between his arms, he made a hasty escape to the dressing room and fell onto the bench. The clothing fell to a heap on the floor and he rested his head back against the wall, wondering if he should have asked Ichigo to go with him. That guy dressed okay, right?

He glanced at his own reflection and cringed. His hair was a mess and his face was showing the effects of the multitude of shirts he'd been pulling on and off all day.

"Are you dressed yet, Abarai-san?"

Man, that guy could be a dom worthy of Kenpachi and didn't even know it. Renji sighed and riffled through the clothing to find a top and bottom that looked like they would work together. He'd mostly been going through simple colors – black, brown, dark blue and white, but Ishida was working some kind of strange magic that was making weird colors work with his damn hair – green, yellow and, heaven save him, even _orange_. And the worst part of it was that, despite all laws of nature, it all looked _good_. Like Ishida was just willing time and space to twist until colors that should have never been put side by side were suddenly the most reasonable combinations in the world.

Renji wearily buttoned the jeans and straightened up with a dark green tee shirt in hand. He caught his own reflection on the way up and tipped his head. The strange fabric -_denim, _Ishida said- clung to his legs like a layer of deep gray skin and rested sinfully low on his hips. He blushed faintly, imagining what Byakuya would do if the captain ever caught him like this...

He cleared his throat, glancing around nervously, almost expecting Byakuya to appear out of thin air.

The curtain yanked open and Renji actually jumped, spinning to face Bya-

"Ishida?"

Ishida was frozen like a sighted rabbit. He was staring wide-eyed at Renji's exposed chest, a blush creeping slowly over his cheeks.

_That's what you get for walking in on people! What would'ja've done if I'd been naked?_

Ishida cleared his throat and whirled back around, flinging the curtain closed in the process. "Just put a shirt on. And not the green one!"

Renji sighed, pausing with the green shirt half way over his head. He yanked it off and pulled up a mellow blue tank top instead. When he stepped out of the dressing room, Ishida was facing resolutely away from him, back and shoulders stiff. "Are you gonna look?" Renji asked. Tired as he was, he had to admit that he was little... flattered by how flustered the younger man was.

"Depends. Are you decent?"

Renji glanced down at himself. "I think it looks okay..."

Ishida peered over his shoulder cautiously and then turned all the way around. He made a circular motion with one finger and Renji obediently spun a slow circle.

"That will work. You don't have to change back into the others. And leave your shoes off."

While Renji was gathering the pile up, Ishida made a quick sweep of the shop and met him at the counter with another armful of things. An uncomplaining Chad was loaded down with more bags and the clerk – a pretty blond with a blue streak in her hair- cut the tags off his new clothing. He pulled on his new (not shiny) shoes and they filed out of the shop.

Renji collapsed into a bench and, running the risk of sounding ungrateful, pleaded, "Can we be done now?" He had no idea that shopping was such a stressful affair. He would have preferred a sparring session with Ikkaku...

There were fake plants (fake plants!) on either side of him and he swatted at the long silk leaves when they got tangled in his already mussed hair.

"Let's go get some food," Ishida suggested. He looked amused. The soft expression looked good on him and Renji grinned. He hopped up to his feet and took some of the bags from Chad. He was glad the big man decided to tag along.

Ishida went through the bags again while they ate. He stuffed the rest of Renji's stipend – a depressingly small remainder- into a folded leather pocket attached to a chain. He called it a wallet and handed it over.

"What's wrong with my purse?" Renji complained.

Chad kindly paid strict attention to his sandwich, but Ishida laughed outright. "First, you called it a _purse_. Men haven't carried "purses" here for more than a hundred years."

Renji could feel blood warming his cheeks and stuffed the wallet into his annoying tight pocket. After some examination, he clipped the chain to one of the belt loops. Ishida handed him a pair of glasses with colored lenses once he had it figured out and then smiled. "There. You no longer look like you spilled out of a time machine this morning," Ishida declared.

"Great." Renji bit into his sandwich, shifting in the unfamiliar tight clothing. It was it was simultaneously strange and comfortable not to have all the extra pounds of fabric. By the end of the meal, he decided he was going to like human clothing. He leaned back in the chair so he could stretch his legs out. The fabric of the jeans pulled tight across his hips and he glanced down to realize that his dick was clearly outline against his thigh. Something about it made him want to laugh, but he also realized that these could become dangerous quickly. He was pretty sure he had things that were a little more loose in that mountain of fabric...

"You guys?" They looked up inquisitively and Renji offered them both crooked smiles. "Thanks."

Chad nodded, both accepting and dismissing the gratitude with a single tiny motion. The man was amazing that way. Ishida offered him a smile that Renji recognized with a frisson of shock as being rare.

"Don't thank me yet," he said. "We have one more place to go."

~I~I~

They left "the mall" behind, much to Renji's deep relief and walked down the sidewalk. The crowd was gradually thinning as they moved further away from the monstrosity known as "the mall" and the sun sank lower in the sky.

Ishida seemed to know where he was going and navigated through the streets with the same confidence he'd displayed earlier on. When they finally stopped, Renji lifted an eyebrow uncertainly and Chad's lips twisted in a little grimace. The tiny shop said "Tattoo" in uninspired letters. The windows were tinted dark black and there were bars on the door. Chad and Renji both hesitated on the sidewalk when Ishida pushed into the small building.

Chad capitulated first, shrugging one shoulder before following. The inside was remarkably clean and well lit, a startling contrast to the grungy exterior. There was no one behind the counter and the shop appeared to be unoccupied. Renji examined the artwork on the walls. The walls themselves were covered in a mural of a giant Chinese dragon twisting across one wall, up over the ceiling and down until its gaping mouth was hovering over the door. It was lovingly detailed and surrounded by a full background of misted mountains and blue skies. Covering the unpainted walls were rows upon rows of pictures, each of a unique and detailed tattoo. Behind the counter were stencil-like simple designs and stacks of photo albums were laid out on tables in a small sitting area.

A tall dark-skinned man shuffled out of the back a moment later. He didn't say anything to them, but turned and shouted, "Juro!" over one massive shoulder. Without a second glance, he dropped into a chair and opened a magazine.

"What are we doing here?" Renji asked in an undertone. The shop was cool and all, but it made Renji a little nervous.

Whatever Ishida was planning on answering was interrupted by the door opening again. A slender man with a long plait of thick black hair appeared in the doorway. He smiled broadly and closed the door behind him.

"Ishida-kun!"

Ishida smiled in return. "Juro-san."

Juro was built like a panther and moved with the same menacing grace. His feet barely lifted from the floor as he walked, and yet there was no sliding sound. He wore a simple black tank and a pair of loose pants that rode low enough on his hips to show off a flash of skin when he moved. Every inch of visible skin below his neck was decorated and Renji found his eyes flitting from one flash of color to the next, trying to read the story imprinted on the human's skin.

"Well, what have we here?" Juro asked, eyes sliding over Chad and coming to rest on Renji. His gaze was intense in a way that put Renji on edge for all that he was probably five inches taller than the other man. "My... what have you brought me, Ishida-kun? Come here." He hooked one long finger in Renji's direction and patted a chair invitingly. He smiled the way Urahara smiled, and the sunny mask didn't fool Renji anymore than Urahara's clueless persona did. There was something inherently dangerous about the artist and Renji felt his hackles raising.

"I'll stand," he growled.

"I won't bite," Juro promised with a predatory smile.

"Stop being such a chicken," Ishida goaded, reaching back to pull him forward.

Renji stalked over to the chair and sat down, glaring bloody murder at Ishida, who only looked back innocently.

Juro removed Renji's headband without asking for permission. He made an impressed noise and put one finger to Renji's chin to move his head side to side. "Lovely."

Renji flushed faintly and tensed to get out of the chair.

"How far do these go down?" Juro asked, tipping his head to follow the lines of Renji's markings with his eyes. "May I see?"

Ishida made an encouraging motion with one hand and Chad only stood there, looking out of his element and seemingly happier to just stay out of it. Renji sighed; he wouldn't get much help from that quarter. _Why the fuck not? Wasn't I just sayin how all these damn people are so ashamed of their bodies?_

He stripped off his shirt and Juro's eyes lit up. "Impressive! May I?" He hardly waited for permission before setting a fingertip to one of Renji's markings and tracing it gently. He whistled. "On the back too?"

Juro adjusted the chair and Renji slowly rolled over. He was sure he'd endured more embarrassing things in his lifetime, but couldn't think of any just then. He was roundly cursing Ishida and all of his ancestors when the stranger's hands set to his shoulder blades.

"These are very beautiful," Juro commented sincerely. "I would love the meet the man who gave them to you."

"He's dead," Renji answered tightly.

Juro made a tiny noise. "What a shame. Amazing mastery." He sounded genuinely upset to hear that a man he'd never met was dead.

"They're just lines," Ishida commented. Renji was a little startled by his sudden proximity and jumped when Juro's cold hands returned to his back. Ishida was standing so close to him that he could detect the scent of the man's laundry soap.

"Ishida-kun, you wound my art! Look here- perfect, clean lines; no bleeding, no fading. Uniform color. These took skill and attention. And you are such a perfect canvas, my friend. I am frankly envious."

His hands lifted away and he settled on his stool. Renji sat up and turned so he was straddling the reclining chair. He put his shirt back on and let his hair down so he could fix the tie.

"And what can I do for you gentleman today?" Juro asked finally. He toyed with the end of his braid and looked up at Ishida though his absurdly long lashes.

Ishida pointed at Renji. "Abarai-san needs a job."

Renji gave him a startled, incredulous look and Juro shifted on the stool to examine Renji better. "Well... you _are_ like a walking billboard..." the man mused. "If I could just put my name on the back of your neck-"

"No!" Renji snapped, bristling.

Juro laughed and held up both hands. "Kidding. Mostly." The tip of his tongue darted out to play with his lip ring while he considered them. "I already have an apprentice," he said finally. "...But he's only here three days a week, and I'm here six. If you can show up the other three, I'll put you to work."

Renji looked around the place. "What kind of work?"

"I won't lie; it's a shit job. You'd be prepping and cleaning stations and the rest of the shop, working the front desk, running errands. All the dirty odd jobs around the place. But if you've got any talent, I'll teach you the art."

Renji considered it. It didn't sound a whole lot different from his time in the Eleventh Division and sounded better than washing dishes. He remembered that he'd apparently pissed someone in Supply off and sighed.

"Sure."

"Good! Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday from noon to four in the afternoon." He smiled. "I look forward to it."

Something about the man's smile struck Renji as deeply twisted. Under his vaguely Urahara guise, the guy reminded him of an Ikkaku with hair and Yumichika's cold vindictiveness. _What the fuck did you just get me into, Ishida?_

Renji pulled himself off the chair and Juro stood to walk them out. More than happy to escape, Renji retreated to Chad's side and Ishida stayed back.

"Ishida-kun? How is it?" Juro made a gesture with his chin and Ishida shifted uncomfortably. He shook his head and Juro sighed. "We can do something else, you know?"

Ishida shook his head. "No. That's what I want."

Juro shrugged. "If you say so. Come by tomorrow?"

Ishida blushed faintly under the weight of Renji and Chad's wide-eyed stares, but nodded. Juro squeezed his upper arm briefly and smiled at Chad and Renji. "I'll see you then. And I'll see _you_ on Tuesday. Wear something... white." He waved and disappeared into the back once again.

Ishida led them back out on the sidewalk. "Shut up!" he ordered before Renji had so much as opened his mouth.

Truthfully, Renji didn't know what he would have said, but settled for just staying quiet and following behind the sudden enigma that was Uryuu Ishida.

~I~I~

Things had a way of coming together.

Chad thought about how they'd all ended up this way, the circumstances that led to him walking behind Uryuu Ishida and Renji Abarai – two men who could not have been more similar or more different.

In a way, it was all Ichigo's doing. He was like a magnet, like gravity; everything and everyone he encountered got sucked in one way or another. Without thought or hesitation he was willing to be what anyone needed him to be, was willing to shoulder any burden, bear any pain. He held them together and didn't even realize that they all revolved around him. Even Renji, the soul reaper who was centuries old – who had been dead for centuries more than Ichigo had been alive- treated Ichigo like an equal.

It was easy, the way they all fit together. Or it should have been. Something was splitting apart, maybe something that had been splitting apart for a long time. He remembered Ishida's face, lit by the harsh light of his wild bow, the agony and determination there. Guilt wrapped monstrous hands around his heart and squeezed; he didn't even know how long Ishida had been struggling with it. Why hadn't anyone noticed? Why wouldn't Ishida ask for help?

He thought of Inoue's pretty face, twisted up in an ashamed frown. They were all strong, but they all looked so small against Ichigo's shadow. Chad didn't resent it, neither did Inoue. It made them want to be better, to cast bigger shadows so they could stand up next to their friend.

Ishida's shadow stretched out, long and willowy on the pavement and Chad wondered if Ishida felt the same way, or if he was being crushed by that shadow.


	9. EIGHT

A/N: Thanks everyone who has been following this, I appreciate your feedback! If you would like responses to your reviews, feel free to visit my LiveJournal (link under "homepage" on my bio) and write a comment!

EIGHT::

Ishida settled in his desk and folded his sweater up around his arms. Midterms were nearing and his economics class had dwindled from about thirty-five to a mere eleven. He would bet good money that the number would drop to nine by the end of the test.

He set his chin on the fluffy sweater and listened to the drone of the professor's voice, the clack-clack-clack-slide-click of the chalk on the board. Renji would be starting work in only a few hours. Ishida picked out his clothing the night before and wished him luck. Now, he felt his stomach twist up in knots and he wondered what he could have possibly been thinking, taking Renji to _that place._

_No one else would hire him with all those tattoos,_ he reasoned with himself. It was true enough; business owners got nervous around young guys with lots of tattoos. Those sorts of markings usually meant gangs or Yakuza, and no one wanted that kind of attention.

_I could have taken him to a bar,_ Ishida argued peevishly.

_Yeah, right. The Broken Pony?_

He winced and reminded himself that arguing with his own inner voice was the first step down the road to true madness.

He was normally asleep by then, but he couldn't convince himself to do it. His eyes kept straying to the clock; each tick of the second hand seemed like a nail in the coffin.

_Maybe it will be okay. Juro wouldn't just tell Renji anything. He's a pretty secretive guy. _

That was all true as well, but he could feel his secrets burning into his skin like acid. They burned the way Kurosaki's spiritual pressure burned until he could hardly tell the difference between the imagined pain and the very real throbbing in his right arm. Slipping one finger into his right sleeve, he pulled the cuff back to peer at his arm and winced. The bruising was the worst around his wrist; the splotchy blue patches from Kurosaki's reiatsu, the angry red marks from trying (and failing) to summon up a steady bow, and the broad yellow-purple-blue bands where he'd squeezed his own arm too hard. He traced one finger mark and sighed.

"Ishida-san!"

Ishida jumped and plunged his arm back into the folds of his sweater. His cheeks infused with heat and he kicked himself for forgetting he was in class and there were other people around. That h_e _was in the class.

The _he_ in question was standing in front of his desk with a dark look on his face that made Ishida nervous. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and cleared his throat, discretely pushing his sleeve back down.

"Yes, Daishi-san?"

Daishi shook himself a little. His expression cleared forcefully and he tore his eyes away from Ishida. His gaze wandered somewhere around the frame of the door. "Still have time to go over the notes with me?" he asked without looking back at Ishida.

Ishida realized that he must have seen the bruises and decided to ignore the realization. Nothing of what he did or what was going on with his life was James Daishi's business. He stood, throwing his shoulders back and straightening up. He used to stand that way as a matter of course, had perfect posture thanks to his father's _patient_ tutelage. The tightening across his chest and shoulders pointed out that his posture had been less than perfect lately. He vowed to correct it and gathered his things.

"Sure. Let's go to the library." He lead the way and Daishi followed without a word.

Daishi picked up an innocuous conversation once they were outside. Ishida payed attention with half an ear, interjecting the necessary noises and nods where they were called for. His mind was glued to his watch, his head rang with the tolling of the clock tower bell. It was after noon and Renji should be walking into the tattoo parlor. At least he'd better be, or Ishida would kill him for being late.

_Now you _want _him to have the job?_ that snide little voice asked.

_Shut up._

_ I'm not to the one talking to myself._

_ If I'm talking to myself, you're talking to _yourself_, so shut up!_

There was silence and Ishida felt his cheeks warm up under his own stupidity. _I really am losing my mind_.

Daishi lead him to a table on the lower floor and Ishida settled in, turning his mind resolutely to the task at hand: forcing some semblance of understanding into James Daishi's thick head.

~I~I~

_Tattoo._ The signed blinked at him. _Tattoo. Tattoo. Tattoo. T-Tattoo. _

Chad was still standing beside him. It made him feel better, and the realization that it made him feel better made him realize that he was _nervous_. More nervous, maybe, than the first time he'd asked for Ikkaku's help in training, more nervous than the first time he'd sparred with Kenpachi. Maybe even more nervous than the first time he'd put on the lieutenant's badge and steeled himself to look up at Kuchiki-taichou's face.

"Don't you have work to go to, too?" he grumbled.

Chad glanced down the street and Renji gave him a once over. He and Chad couldn't have been dressed more differently for all that they were wearing the same colors. Black pants, white shirts, black shoes. The difference? Chad was wearing a perfectly pressed dress shirt, each little black button done up, even the ones on his cuffs. His black pants were pressed slacks (that, Renji had to admit, looked pretty fucking good on the guy) and his shoes were shiny and clicked on the pavement.

Chad was dressed that way because he'd gotten his job at the restaurant as a waiter. A pretty nice restaurant as it turned out.

Renji, on the other hand, had been forced to lay flat on his back to get into the tight leather pants Ishida picked out for him. They had silver paint across the ass and down one leg. They also clung weirdly and pulled at the hairs on his legs and were _not comfortable_. Further, he was wearing a white tank that was perfectly see through and was -according to the bag with its four rolled-up brothers- an undergarment.

He was dressed in such a way because Uryuu Ishida was the goddamned devil.

Renji pushed the big man's shoulder, aware that Chad had to be at work in little more than half an hour and the restaurant was several blocks away. "See ya!" He pushed into the tattoo shop without looking back. He wasn't worried that Chad wouldn't make it there in time – the man's ground devouring strides would probably get him there at a leisurely walk faster than most people could run.

The little bell over the door chimed and Renji steeled himself like he expected someone to come charging at him with zanpakutou in hand.

"Don't hover."

Renji _almost_ jumped. "I'm not hovering!"

Juro was seated on one of the padded chairs with his booted feet up. He glanced up and gave Renji a once over. His thin lips quirked up and he turned the page in his magazine. "I see that Ishida-kun got a hold of you this morning. That man does know what looks good on a body, doesn't he?"

Renji wanted to snarl _what makes you think _he _picked it out? _but he was acutely aware that saying so would be implying that _he'd_ picked it out, and that would to go over about as well as a cricket in a snake pen. He settled for glaring.

"There's a broom in the back closet. Drop your shit off at the front desk and go find it."

His right eye twitched and he took a slow breath. He used to have to clean Eleventh Division headquarters when he was brand new to the squad. He could clean a tattoo shop. He could.

_When I find out who's fucking with me in Supply, me and Zabi are gonna be having a little chat with them..._

~I~I~

It was almost time for him to leave when the first customer came in. Renji looked up from the large binder of pre-drawn tattoos.

The first thing he saw was cleavage. Rangiku-sized cleavage. He backed up quickly, a faint blush touching his cheeks. The woman was leaning on the counter with her massive breasts settled on her arms. She smiled at him, her straight midnight black hair trailing over her shoulders to brush against the counter. Her (very low cut) pink tee shirt was all but completely see through, clearly displaying her pattered bra. One arm was decorated with a delicate trail of cherry blossoms and she had a tiny blue star tattooed under her left eye.

"You new, honey?"

Renji coughed. "Yeah."

"How long have you been begging and clawing to get in here, hm? Juro-kun doesn't take on apprentices all the time. Unless you're my Sumisu's?"

His brows drew together, but before he could answer, Roland Smith pushed through the beaded curtain in the back.

"Sumisu-chan!" She abandoned the front counter and bounced back to the tall tattooist.

Renji's head tipped all on its own and he found himself contemplating the hem of her shorts. Were those shorts at all or was she running around in undergarments? He couldn't really tell, but he was leaning towards the latter as the shorts rode up high enough to display the lower curve of her buttocks. Her very nice buttocks.

Smith's big hand landed on her ass with a resounding crack and she squeaked. Renji jumped a little from the sound and then blushed when Smith's hand curled into two fingers and jerked upwards. Renji tore his eyes away from the tantalizing curve of her ass and sheepishly met his gaze.

_Man, if looks could kill..._

"Are those the dulcet tones of darling Sasemi-chan that I detect?" Juro asked. He peaked his head out of his office and smiled. His braid dangled over his shoulder like a pendulum for a moment before he straightened and glided into the room. It was unnerving how smooth and quiet he moved, even in his outrageous spiked boots.

"Oh, Juro-kun! You flatterer." She wiggled out of Smith's arms and skipped around him to lay a kiss on Juro's cheek.

He put a hand to his chest and feigned a swoon, fanning himself with one hand. "Certainly, I've died and gone to some amazing heaven!"

Sasemi giggled and slapped him playfully on one arm. "Flirt!" She wrapped one arm around his and played with a little white button on his shirt. "Juro-kun, can you do my breasts today?"

Renji almost fell off his stool. Smith glowered at him. Juro laughed, his perceptive eyes locked onto Renji's shocked face.

"I would ask Sumisu-chan, but you know how Sumisu-chan is about doing me," she pouted.

Juro laughed again. He had a surprisingly deep laugh for all that his speaking voice was normally pretty high. "Indeed, I _do_ know how our dear Sumisu-chan is about doingyou."

_I cannot believe this conversation is actually happening. No one talks like this... not even Rangiku!_

He caught a hint of motion and had to force himself not to spin away from it. He could feel his hip tingling where Zabimaru usually rested and clutched his stool so he could pretend obliviousness. Despite seeing Smith coming, he was still startled when a giant hand landed on the back of his neck. The man was literally growling as he propelled Renji off the stool and towards the door, scruffing him like a naughty puppy the whole way. Renji was barely able to swipe his pack up before he ran bodily into the door.

"Come back Thursday!" Juro called.

The door opened and Renji stumbled onto the sidewalk. He caught himself and spun just in time to see the sign on the door flip to "Closed" and hear the click of the lock.

"Fucking weird," Renji complained under his breath. He rubbed the back of his neck and glanced around surreptitiously before adjusting his damnable pants. They'd actually loosened up over the course of the day and no longer felt quite so uncomfortable, but they were still about five sizes too small.

He dragged his bag over his shoulder and started the walk back to the school. It was chilly and the cold wind bit right through his flimsy undergarment tank and made his nipples hard. A fact which he was sure everyone who passed him saw instantly. He cursed himself for forgetting the black jacket Ishida laid out for him the night before, and then cursed all of Hueco Mundo and its population of hungry hollows for not being able to ramp up his reiatsu to compensate for the chill. While he was at it, he cursed the whole of the Soul Society for setting the rule; he could take care of any damn hollows that showed up!

All-in-all, the day wasn't shaping up to be one of the best in recent memory. But since he had such a good head of steam... Renji stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and dug out his silver cell phone. He flipped it open and scrolled through the entries until he found _Supply_.

A smile tugged across his lips and pushed the dial button.

~I~I~

The cold air almost burned. Ichigo's lungs struggled to drag in drought after drought of the chilled winter air and he forced his legs to keep going even though they were complaining at the stress. He was alone on the track now. A few other guys and a giggling group of girls were there when he first arrived, but they'd long since capitulated to the chill and the setting sun. Ichigo stopped counting the laps after nine.

The clouds were pregnant with water – it was cold enough that it could easily be snow. If he stayed out, Ishida would bitch at him for tracking water into the room. If Ishida even acknowledged that he was there at all. Since their fight, Ishida ignored him altogether, and fuck, what kind of fight was that? All Ichigo had done was try to give the ungrateful bastard a neck massage!

He heard the sound of pounding feet coming up behind him and ignored it, concentrating on the upcoming turn. Running was calming; he'd always had legs for running. Sometimes he wondered why he never even considered going in for track.

"So whad'dya do?"

Ichigo nearly tripped on his own feet and glared over at Renji. The man was dressed in a white and blue track suit. The contrast of the white against the brooding sky made his skin seem even warmer and his hair even brighter.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"No one punishes themselves this hard just 'cus," Renji joked. He was keeping up easily, his breath coming out in even mists. It made Ichigo more conscious of how short his own breath was. He couldn't feel the tip of his nose and his calves were on fire.

"Just easier to think this way," Ichigo muttered.

Renji ran with him in silence for another half lap before speaking again. "You and Ishida seem like..." Ichigo turned to glare at him and Renji held up both hands. "Sorry, just saying – you two seem like you're ready to take out each other's throats."

"It's not my fault!" Ichigo snapped. "Ishida is just... Ishida!"

"Right. You wanna switch me rooms, then?"

"What? No! Ishida just needs to stop being..." Words lost him and he closed his stride to an angry fast walk. His knees felt like jelly.

"Stop being...Ishida?" Renji supplied. He pushed his hands into his pockets. The track suit swished loudly in the silence that followed. Ichigo felt his irritation building back up and stormed through another half lap. He was angry at the whole situation, though at that moment he was mostly angry at Renji for intruding and pointing out his own stupidity.

That was the root of the problem, wasn't it? Ishida was Ishida. Insufferable control-freak who had never liked Ichigo in the first place and now they were being crammed into a dorm room that was barely bigger than Ichigo's room at home. Tempers ran high between roommates at the best of times, and Ichigo and Ishida were like oil and fire at a distance. Apparently they were fire and lighter fluid in close quarters.

He finally slowed to a reasonable walk and fleetingly found himself wishing that Kawagichi-sensei was there to administer his strange torture. The bastard might be uncommonly good at causing pain, but Ichigo was sure going to be hating life once his muscles had time to process what he'd done to them.

"You better stretch," Renji commented, reminding Ichigo that he was there in the first place.

Ichigo exited the track at an angle and headed for the bleachers. Renji followed and sat next to him. A little too close; Ichigo shoved him away and dragged his leg onto the bench to stretch it out. He could feel the muscles twitching in angry protest to the treatment.

"You could heat up a whole goddamned room by yourself, you know?" Renji complained suddenly. Ichigo gave him a weird look over one shoulder and moved further away under the pretense of twisting to bring his other leg up. Renji rolled his eyes. "Just saying... you got so much damn reiatsu spilling out all over the place, you're like a space heater."

Ichigo bristled. "So!"  
>"So! I can't raise mine at all, even for that, and you get to run around with a cloud of the shit all over you."<p>

"... are you cold?" Ichigo asked, realization dawning.

Renji blushed faintly and stood up quickly. "Looks like you're gonna survive. Lemme know when you want to switch rooms, huh?" Without waiting for an answer, he took off for the track and started an easy warm-up.

Ichigo shrugged and shoved the weird conversation off. He stood, shook his legs out a little and started walking back for the dorm, even though they still felt like wet noodles.

~I~I~

The light was on when Ichigo finally made it back to the room. Climbing the stairs was probably the most agonizing thing he'd done in months. His chest was still heaving from the effort and it made him _angry_. He was out of shape, kept out of the loop, and stuck with an obnoxious roommate who hated him – worse, _ignored_ him- and there was nothing he could do about any of it. If there was anything in the world he hated it was feeling powerless.

He was already bracing himself to be ignored when he pushed the door open. Ishida sat at his desk with his back turned to the door. He was dressed in a gray long-sleeved tee shirt that stretched across his strangely broad shoulders. Fluffy blue slippers peeked out from beneath the hem of his soft blue flannel pants.

Ichigo didn't know why, but it was the goddamned fluffy slippers that got him. He threw his bag down hard. Ishida's hand paused over his homework. His body tensed, but he didn't turn around, didn't acknowledge that Ichigo was even there, that the noise was in anyway unusual in an empty room.

"Goddamnit, Ishida! When are you going to _talk to me_ for fuck's sake?" Ichigo exploded.

Ishida remained impassive, but Ichigo saw his hand tightening on the pencil. The sound of the graphite scratching across the paper picked back up. The noise was going to drive Ichigo insane.

"I'm sorry I dared to touch you, okay? This is stupid! We're not kids! You can't keep ignoring me like this! It's... stupid!"

"I am not _ignoring _you," Ishida finally growled. His jaw was tight and the words barely escaped the snap of his teeth. "I just have nothing to say to you." He straightened up and nodded to himself, like that solved all the mysteries of the universe.

"Ishida..." Ichigo lowered his voice to keep from sounding like he was pleading. He couldn't fathom why it was so important that Ishida thaw out and talk to him. Maybe he was insane. Maybe he was homesick and just missed all the noise and ruckus his father and sisters caused. _Should have stopped at 'insane,'_ he told himself, but it didn't change the facts around at all. He felt trapped in the room with the oppressive weight of Ishida's disregard threatening to strangle him.

"If you don't have something productive to say, I would appreciate it if you stopped talking," Ishida said finally. He had a smooth voice that reminded Ichigo of the feeling of ice beneath his feet, that heart-stopping moment of panic between slipping and hitting the ground.

"We have to stop this."

Ishida slammed his hands on the desk and pushed himself up. The pencil creaked faintly between his fingers. "Kurosaki, I don't know what impression you've gotten over the last two years, but we are not friends. We are not even _friendly_. We are enemies who were forced into cooperation. We are not teammates, and you sure as _hell_ have no right to talk to me like we're in some kind of ridiculous relationship gone cold!"

He spun finally so Ichigo could see the angry flash of his eyes. "The fact that we have been shoved into the same room is an insane cosmic lapse of judgment, and I would appreciate it if you would at least be cognizant of the fact that _I don't like you_. I don't want to be around you. I don't want you to speak to me, I don't want you to touch me. I want you to be quiet and go about your business so I can go about mine! That is all, Kurosaki! Have I spelled it out well enough, or do you still have questions? I'm happy to explain it in smaller words if you like!"

His chest was heaving and Ichigo felt like he'd been socked in the gut. "You still think we're enemies?"

Ishida threw his hands into the air. "Spirits of my ancestors preserve me! _Yes, _Kurosaki! We've never been anything but!"

"That's not true."

"Yes, it-"

"NO!" Ichigo crowded into his space. "It's not! You didn't have to save me after the Menos Grande that first time. You didn't have come to Soul Society with us. I remember the way you looked at me when Inoue was healing me after Aizen left. I _remember, _Ishida! You didn't have to eat lunch with us at school, you didn't have tag along through all the bullshit the last two years. You didn't have to come to this school with us at all!"

"So what?" Ishida clenched his jaw and took a step away from Ichigo. "Step away from me, Kurosaki, or I swear..."

"You swear, what? You'll hit me? Hurt me? You can't even stand to touch me!"

"What is the matter with you? Do you even hear yourself?"

"We were friends, Ishida! Tell me what happened to make you hate me again!" He backed Ishida into the corner and planted both hands on either side of him. This game they were playing had to end somewhere, and Ichigo decided it was going to end there.

"Get away from me, Kurosaki!" For all that his voice lowered to a dangerous growl, his hands stayed balled at his sides.

"Not until you tell me-"

"I'm switching rooms!" Ishida snapped. "At the term, I'm going to transfer to Tokyo University. Get away from me now!"

Ichigo was stunned enough that his hands fell away, but he didn't step back. "Why?"

"Stop acting like a jilted lover, Kurosaki! Go find yourself a new pet project. I'm done being your experiment. Now. _Move_."

Ishida pushed past him. He got two feet away before Ichigo caught up. He spun and grabbed Ishida's wrist.

"The best med program in the country is here. Why would you go to Tokyo U?" Ichigo hauled him back when Ishida fought to get his wrist free. The man looked almost... panicked. The expression was enough to actually concern Ichigo.

Ishida finally broke away and cradled his right wrist to his chest like it was broken. From his pained expression, Ichigo worried that maybe he _had_ broken it...

"Learn how to control yourself!" Ishida hissed.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you-"

"You hurt me just by breathing!" Ishida snapped. His eyes were flashing angrily.

The words stung, biting deeper than they should; Ichigo always thought he was immune to this kind of verbal abuse. Heavens knew he went through enough of the same when he was growing up.

"If you don't get a hold of your damn reiatsu, you're going to start hurting a lot more people than just me!" Ishida continued heatedly. From the shocked look that crossed his face immediately, he hadn't meant to say it.

"...What?"

"Forget it!" Ishida turned to run. He made it to the door before Ichigo caught him. Ichigo held a hand against the door and caught Ishida's arm again. "Stop!" Ishida yelled, but it sounded more like a plea.

"Tell me what you're talking about!"

"I SAID STOP!"

"I'll let you go, if you just tell me-"

Ishida bit down on his lip and squeezed his eyes closed. His knees gave out and Ichigo caught him automatically. The Quincy made a sound that came suspiciously close to a whimper and then the room was cast in the soft glow of his bow. Ichigo hastily shoved Ishida's arm away and stared at it. Thinner and shorter than he remember, the bow pulsed and seemed to fight to grow, twisting and shuddering.

Ichigo let his arm go and the bow faded immediately. The door opened a moment later and Ishida was gone.


	10. NINE

NINE::

Renji felt Ishida as soon as he left the track. He glanced up at the darkening sky. Fat fluffy white flakes were drifting out of the heavy clouds and the strange similar-but-not-quite-shinigami tingle that Renji had come to associate with Ishida drifted down with the snow.

He was half way to the dormitory building when he realized that Ishida must be on top of the building. An uneasy feeling lodged in his chest and he stretched his stride to a jog, navigating around the streams of people hurrying to get out of the snow.

Ignoring the burning complaints of his thighs, Renji took the stairs two at a time. He was going to have to talk to Urahara about how he kept these gigai. He sighed in relief when he finally spied the entrance to the eighth floor. "Just one more..."

It was snowing in earnest when he pushed onto the roof. Cold air lashed across his face and he brought one arm up as a shield before forging onto the roof. It only took a moment to find Ishida, his back pushed against a sheltering stretch of wall and slippered feet braced against the ledge.

Renji approached carefully, not sure what to make of the situation. His worst scenario expectation had been to find Ishida balanced on the edge, not shivering in his pajamas, hiding from the wind.

He cleared his throat to announce himself. "So...Nice night."

"It's not," Ishida muttered.

Renji settled on the cold ground next to the Quincy. "You're right. It's not, but I thought I would... you know, come up for some fresh air and...snow. How about you?"

Ishida shrugged. He dragged his knees closer to his chest and set his chin on them. His body shuddered faintly with the cold and he was soaked. Renji moved casually closer until they were touching along one side. Ishida's shivers made his arm vibrate.

"How long have you been up here?"

"Not long."

Renji took a slow breath and let it out. He wasn't good at this kind of shit. Why couldn't they have given this assignment to Rangiku or, heck, Yumichika? "So..."

"Can I switch rooms with you, Abarai-san?" Ishida asked quietly, saving Renji from having to come up with suitable small talk that didn't imply how insane he thought Ishida was just then.

Renji shrugged. "I guess. Might be better to ask Sado though, you know? Him and Kurosaki probably won't kill each other. Probably. Sado's a fucking saint."

Ishida's lips tugged upwards slightly. He nestled tighter into his arms, discreetly wiping his nose against one sleeve. For some reason, the concept of Ishida doing something as... crude as wiping his nose on his cuff made Renji relax. He shifted sideways and lifted one arm. Ishida seemed a little startled when it landed around his shoulders, but he leaned into Renji's comparative warmth regardless.

_Fuck the hollows..._ Renji let his reiatsu spike just enough to warm the area around them. "You should probably go inside," he commented after another minute of listening to the wind.

Ishida nodded. He wiggled his toes in his soggy slippers and winced. For all that he had to be miserable, he didn't seem inclined to move.

"Hey, though, you think you could come back to my room? I have to go to a class tomorrow." He sighed longsufferingly. Going to classes was just part of his cover, but that didn't mean he was going to be forgiven for failing regular _human_ classes. Never mind that it was almost a century since the last time he had to sit in a lecture hall. "Some kind of bullshit literature class, I think. Poetry?" The unease in his voice was not manufactured in the least. "I dunno. All seems pretty stupid to me... If you're not too busy though... maybe you could help me catch up on stuff?"

Ishida relaxed visibly, tension draining out of his shoulders. He turned slightly and smiled. Renji was sure Ishida could see right through the stupid ploy, but he didn't let on.

"Sure."

"Nice!" He climbed to his feet, pulling Ishida up with him. His ass was frozen _and_ asleep and his legs were still wobbly from the running. If he didn't get this heavy gigai's ass in shape soon, Kurosaki was going to _flatten _him at the tournament...

Ishida stopped once they were inside to take off his soaking slippers. Renji feigned obliviousness to Ishida's drenched state and came up with some college student-sounding bullshit to prattle on about as they descended the stairs. If it wasn't for the fact that Ishida so obviously did not want to go back to his own room, Renji would have stopped on the fifth floor so the man could change. As it was, he brushed right by the it, giving Ishida no choice but to follow or stop him.

Ishida chose to follow and Renji threw flannel pants and a shirt at him as soon as they got to the room. Chad gave them both speculative looks, but didn't say anything. Chad was very good about not speaking – he wasn't like most people, who constantly needed to know what was going on with everyone around them.

Once again warm and dry, Renji climbed up the ladder to his bed and patted the mattress invitingly. Ishida hesitated, eyes darting wildly around the room. When Renji started unpacking his text books, Ishida blushed and followed. Renji was perfectly aware of what he was doing to the younger man, but feigned innocence and waited for Ishida to settle in before thrusting a poetry book at him.

"You only have a few weeks before finals. Why didn't you just wait until next term to start?" Ishida asked. His voice was muffled though the pages of the book, the small text held up in front of his face while he flipped through it.

"The powers that be don't pay attention to shit like academic calenders," Renji mourned.

"Well, you have a lot to catch up on. How many other classes do you have?"

Renji ticked them off on one hand. "Poetry, art and... freshman something?"

"Composition?"

"Yeah. I think that's it." He tried to remember where he'd put his class schedule, but had a feeling it was buried down in the muddle of lose paper at the bottom of his bag.

"You should be okay. At least you don't have to try and catch up on chemistry or something, though heaven only knows what your art project is going to look like..." Ishida liberated Renji's pale green pack from between the lieutenant's legs and dug into it. His right eye twitched once...twice. He pushed his glasses up and took a deep breath.

"You haven't even been to any classes yet and it looks like this?"

Gods, Ishida could be scary. "Sorry! I was in a hurry!"

Muttering, Ishida started digging out handfuls of misused pages and depositing them on the bed along with everything else. Made safe by Ishida's preoccupation, Renji let himself smile. This was the Ishida that he knew and liked the best – the pushy, overconfident Ishida. This Ishida made him want to ask what Kurosaki could have possibly done to create that miserable, uncertain creature Renji had found on the roof.

However, this Ishida also scared him a little bit too, and he wanted to keep his tender parts where they belonged.

~I~I~

Practice was almost over by the time Ishida showed up. Ichigo saw him immediately. The girls all stood to greet him and he forged into the center of their group like a king lion returning to the pride. Ichigo glared at him uselessly and Ishida ignored him.

He'd never come back to the room the night before and Renji and Chad were being _strange_. Two loud claps echoed off the vaulted ceiling and he ripped his attention away from the bleachers and returned it to the middle of the mat.

"Ten minutes remaining! Let's get some randori in, huh?" He began pairing fighters up. Ichigo was almost relieved when Renji was shooed off to a corner with Hisao, but he regretted it a moment later when he and James Daishi were the only two left standing. He tried not to let his irritation show as he sulked after Daishi towards the corner opposite Renji.

Daishi wasn't as successful at hiding his irritation. No, not irritation – he looked downright furious. On top of all the shit Ichigo was going through with Ishida, now this guy was going to give him attitude? Over what?

They gave each other shallow bows and slid into fighting stances.

"Hajime!"

Daishi launched at him instantly. Ichigo planted his forward foot and caught the charging fighter by both lapels. For a second they were locked evenly, and then Daishi twisted and shoved his shoulder hard into Ichigo's chest. He wrapped a hand around Ichigo's waist and lifted him off his feet.

Ichigo tossed his weight, held his grip on his opponent's lapel and slid around the man's leg before he could be thrown. He used the momentum to drag Daishi around, trying to catch his feet. The man jumped nimbly out of the way, and Ichigo was grudgingly impressed with his speed. He didn't have long to be impressed, however, before the blond was back in his space. He moved smoothly, but with a sort of exactness that said more towards repetition than natural talent; he was too stiff and too angry to be a real threat, but his angry energy kept catching Ichigo off-guard and off balance. The man was stronger than he looked and Ichigo barely saved himself from half a dozen nasty falls without being able to retaliate.

They ended up on their knees. Daishi managed to get behind him and was yanking him backwards with a strong forearm around his throat. Ichigo dug his fingers under the man's arm and tried to get enough leverage to pry it away or flip Daishi over his shoulder.

Daishi pressed his face close to Ichigo's ear. "Enjoy hitting people, Kurosaki?" he asked in a whisper.

"What-?" Ichigo finally managed to get his back straightened up enough to flip the shorter man over his shoulder and flat onto the mat. Daishi rolled out from under him and shot back to his feet. Ichigo rolled backwards and flipped upright, putting some space between them. They closed again, immediately twisting hands in the other's gi.

"Let's see how you like it when you get hit back!" Daishi snarled. He released Ichigo's sleeve and cocked his fist back.

Ichigo saw it coming, but was so startled he could only watch as Daishi's curled fist came hurdling for his face. He jerked back at the last second and the blow clipped his chin, forcing his head to the side. He shoved hard, jumping out of the other man's range.

"What the hell are you doing, Daishi?"

Without answering, the man charged him again, fists already up. He had a jab like a boxer and Ichigo fought to stay out of the fighter's range. He didn't really want to _hurt _him, but goddamnit, he was getting pissed off!

"DAISHI!" Kawagichi's voice boomed over their heads, but Daishi didn't so much as hesitate. He took another wide swing at Ichigo's head. Instead of dodging, Ichigo caught the man's wrist and shoved his palm into the inside of his elbow to collapse his arm. He slid into Daishi's space and swept his legs out from under him. They both went down and Ichigo fought to get his arms around the struggling man before he could get away.

There was a rush of movement and Ichigo caught a flash of red as Renji wrapped him up in a bear hug and yanked him off of the enraged blond. Daishi surged up after him, but was caught by two of his teammates.

"Disgraceful!" Kawagichi barked. "Both of you! Get out of my sight! And you will be running laps _together_ all day Saturday if it kills you both! GO!"

Daishi's captors hauled him to his feet and he shrugged out of their grasp and gave Ichigo a nasty look before stalking for the locker room.

Ichigo wasn't sure when he'd last been so angry, but he stayed in Renji's restraining arms rather than risking being free to go after the jackass. Renji yanked him to his feet and pulled him towards the bleachers. His anger spiked even higher when he noticed Ishida disappearing into the locker rooms after Daishi.

"Man, you really _do _need a babysitter," Renji muttered. He shoved him onto the bench.

"_HE-_"

"If you say 'he started it,' Kurosaki, I'll put you in time out," Renji warned. He flicked Ichigo hard on the middle of his forehead, leaving an impressive red mark.

Ichigo simmered silently.

~I~I~

Ishida heard the crashing well before he found James Daishi kicking a locker.

"The janitor is hardly going to appreciate that." He leaned against the corner of the row, both to keep some distance between him and the angry fighter, and so he could slip around it if he needed to.

"Fuck that guy!"

"What did he do, exactly?" Ishida asked, tipping his head to one side. He was reasonably sure that Ichigo hadn't done anything catastrophic enough to warrant this kind of reaction over the course of the 48 hours since they'd last encountered each other.

"You don't have to lie for him," Daishi growled. He stalked towards Ishida with a menacing look and caught him by the front of his shirt before he could escape.

"I didn't even say anything!" Ishida protested.

"I can hear it in your voice – you're getting ready to defend him! Well _don't_, Ishida! You deserve better than him!"

"...What?" He really was confused now.

Daishi caught his right arm and yanked his sleeve up to display the bruises. They were far worse than they'd been the day before and the sight made Daishi clench his teeth. His grip on Ishida's wrist was uncomfortable.

"There are a lot of guys out there that like guys, Ishida. You don't have to put up with this shit!"

Ishida felt his face heat up instantly and he yanked his wrist out of Diashi's grasp. "You think _Kurosaki_ is _abusing _me?"

"Don't _lie_! I can see it, Ishida! I've noticed all the signs, sleeping in class, not wanting to sleep when he's there, the way you wince when he walks into a room... the _bruises_! Fuck, Ishida, you can't think that's okay!"

"Unbelievable," Ishida muttered. His luck just wasn't going to turn! "Diashi! Kurosaki Ichigo is not abusing me. First of all, we're not even... _together_ like that," he knew his face was red as a damn radish and tried to look dignified despite it. "And second, even if we were, Kurosaki Ichigo would never hurt someone he loved. Hell, he'd never even intentionally hurt someone he _hated_. That guy would probably sooner take his own heart out than cause someone else pain. Trust me."

"You're really going to stand there and lie to me like that?"

Now he was getting angry. "What part of this conversation are you missing?"

"How do you explain the bruises? Fall down the stairs? Bump into a door? I guess you have some hand-shaped objects hanging around your room that you run into everyday!"

Ishida took a slow breath. "I have a condition," he pushed out through his teeth. When he opened his eyes again, Daishi was staring at him warily. "It makes me bruise easily." That was the truth anyways.

"...Really?"

"Yes. Watch." He pulled his right sleeve up further, hid his own shock at the state of his skin and found a patch of skin relatively clear of bruising. He flicked it as hard as he could and the area quickly filled with color. "See? That will be a bright purple bruise in about twenty minutes if you want to wait around," he commented mildly.

Daishi took his arm and examined the red mark carefully.

"So... why can't you sleep with him in the room?"

"He snores."

"You're not together?"

Ishida sighed. "No. And his not abusing me. Promise."

Daishi let his breath out in a relieve whoosh and dropped to a bench. Ishida slowly sat next to him, rolling his sleeve down in the process.

"Why did you get so... angry? You hardly know me," Ishida pointed out.

"Do I have to know you to be upset that you're – that I _thought_ you were getting abused? There are a lot of good men out there and no one should have to go through that!" He actually seemed offended that Ishida would suggest it.

Ishida shrugged. "I guess not. Just seems that you took it a little far." A horrible thought occurred to him and he gave Daishi a suspicious look. "Are you... _jealous_?"

Daishi's brows drew together and he gave Ishida a confounded look. "What? No! I don't... I mean, I'm sure you're an attractive guy, but... I'm not gay!"

"You're not?"

"NO!"

"Sorry! What was I supposed to think!" Ishida held up his hands in a warding-off gesture and Daishi snorted shortly in harsh laughter. He waved a dismissive hand.

"S'okay. I guess I was probably coming off a little... territorial or something, right?"

Ishida raised an eyebrow at him and Daishi finally seemed to relax. He let his elbows rest against his knees and ran his hands through his hair. "You just... remind me of someone. My best friend, actually. We went to this small school for high school back in America. He's gay, and came out in... junior year, I guess. It was such a small school that he got a lot of flak for it, but he didn't care because he had _Cameron_. Cameron was this..." Daishi's jaw clenched. "Whatever. He used to hit Sean a lot, push him around, that kind of thing.

"Sean wouldn't leave him or do anything about it because he was a man, and Cameron was the only other gay guy he knew. He was worried about being alone, I guess. No matter how much I tried..." Daishi took a slow breath and leaned back so his head rested on a locker. "Cameron finally broke three of his ribs, his wrist and nearly collapsed his trachea. He was in the hospital for weeks."

"I'm sorry."

Daishi gave a little shrug. "He's doing better now." He pushed himself off the lockers. "So... I'm not sure I really believe you, but... I guess it makes sense – I didn't think Kurosaki was that type until I saw those bruises, but you never know about people, right?"

Ishida rolled his eyes. "Thanks for being my knight and all, but really – it's not any of your business either way."

The blond nodded. "Sure. But you can make it my business. Just so you know – if he ever does."

"I'll remember that." Ishida stood. "You should apologize to Kurosaki. He can be a jackass sometimes, but he's basically a good person. And he forgives easy."

Daishi didn't say anything and Ishida left without another word.

~I~I~

He fled the gymnasium as soon as he was able to extract himself from the group of girls all clamoring to know what was the matter with Daishi and _Kurosaki-kun_. He managed to dodge both Kurosaki and Renji on the way out and hurried back towards the dorms.

_This is all bullshit_. His mind skimmed through his bank account and he tried to think of what he had by way of funds. He could probably get a train ticket out of the city and be able to support himself for a few months before he needed to find a job.

He stopped, one hand on his doorknob. _What am thinking_? He could clearly imagine his father's cold, furious face if he dropped out of school, never mind if he tried something so disgraceful as working a part-time job without a degree... Laughter lodged in his chest and made it shake. The sound didn't make it out of his throat, but he could feel it lurking beneath the surface, hysterical, insane.

_I'll face hollows and shinigami all day, but my father? _

Before anyone could see him standing outside his own door, shaking with laughter like a lunatic, he pushed into the room. The curtains were drawn over the window, and the light just beyond turned the edges of the chocolate brown fabric a rust red. He stared at that sullen color, dropping down into a chair. He felt impotent, useless. He couldn't stay and he couldn't leave; the semester wasn't even over and he wasn't sure he would survive the second half of the school year.

Sometimes he wished he could be more like Kurosaki. Any problem, regardless of how big or small was simple to him and often solved by smashing something in the face with a sword. The man was a force all his own and things just _came_ to him without any reasonable degree of logic or adherence to cosmic law. Ishida let his head hang and resisted the urge to shout, _it's not fair!_

"But it's not," he muttered to himself.

He felt Kurosaki coming from down the hall and sighed, bracing himself for the inevitable spike of pain. He took a slow breath and turned around to face his desk, hastily dragging out papers and a pen so it looked like he was busy. Maybe Kurosaki would just grab something and leave...

Weight pushed against the door, making it creak faintly. The knob turned with a metallic click and the door swung open. Ishida glanced over his shoulder, catching a momentary glimpse of Ichigo Kurosaki backlit like some bad-tempered angel descending from heaven.

Kurosaki stalked into the room, dropping his gym bag in the corner. He ignored Ishida as he sulked around the room, doing _things_ randomly and loudly. Each crash of a drawer sliding back into the chest, each of Kurosaki's heavy footsteps on on the thin carpet, each time the man made an irritated noise just increased the pent-up feeling lodged between Ishida's shoulders. His fingers tightened on the pen until he was worried that it would snap in his hand.

Having to clean up ink was the last thing he wanted to do, so he took a slow breath and set it down. Ishida stood slowly, deciding he would go see if Renji needed any more help with his homework.

"Where are you going?" Kurosaki demanded before Ishida even made it to the door.

"Why is it any of your business?" The familiar anger was building up inside his chest. He wanted to punch the guy; punch him and keep punching him until he shut up, but it really _would_ end up hurting Ishida more than it would hurt Kurosaki. _How fucked up is that?_

He pulled his shoes on, determined to ignore the man. When he reached for the door, however, Kurosaki's big hand planted on it to hold it closed in what was becoming an all too familiar ritual. Warmth and reiatsu swelled off of Kurosaki like heatwaves on pavement in mid summer.

"Back away," Ishida tried without much hope of success.

Predictably, Kurosaki ignored him. "Where did you go last night?" His voice was softer than Ishida was used to.

"Not. Your. Business."

Kurosaki's arm collapsed until his forearm was resting on the door and Ishida was forced to press close to the door to avoid the full body contact. "Just tell me what I have to do to fix it."

Somehow, his voice was sad, _pleading_ and it made Ishida angry. What right did Kurosaki have to be upset? He spun in the tight circle of Kurosaki's restraining arms and pushed at his chest with both hands. Reiatsu pulsed through his hands and up his arms like electric shocks, but he ignored it and shoved the man again, forcing him to take a few steps backwards.

"Leave it the fuck alone!" Ishida snarled.

"...You just cussed."

The shock on Kurosaki's face pushed Ishida over the edge. He cocked his fist back and punched the shinigami square in the jaw. Ichigo stumbled backward until he hit the wall, looking stunned. He reached up to touch his jaw gingerly. Ishida shook out his hand, surprised by how much it hurt; he'd never punched someone with a bare fist before. He glared at Kurosaki like it was the shinigami's fault that he didn't know how to throw a proper punch.

Kurosaki recovered from his shock and came barreling across the room. Ishida had a split second to rethink his strategy of physical assault before he was shoved against the wall. Both of his wrists were caught in Kurosaki's big hands. They were hoisted above his head and pinned to the wall. Ishida struggled against him, trying in vain to get his knee up so he could at least get Kurosaki once in the groin. That would make any man back off, right?

No luck; Kurosaki was so close to him that lifting his leg only tangled them up further. Bright gold, blue, and pink stars erupted behind his eyelids and he fought to stay conscious and not scream.

"What do you want from me?" Ishida shouted, bucking hard in an effort to create even a tiny amount of space between them.

Kurosaki made a noise that sounded closer to a wolf's growl than anything a human should be capable of. The next thing Ishida was aware of was his glasses pushing hard into the bridge of his nose. Kurosaki's lips pressed against his in an angry rush and Ishida drew in a startled breath through his mouth. Kurosaki took advantage of the opening, shoving his tongue into Ishida's mouth with graceless force.

Pressure built inside of him until he was sure he was going to break at the seams. The mounting pain was self-cauterizing and Ishida experienced a glorious numbing sensation over his entire body. The lack of sharp pain made him moan and Kurosaki took it as encouragement. He let go of Ishida's right hand and grabbed the back of his neck instead. Ishida was pulled in closer and Kurosaki's lips slanted sloppily over his, tongue moving almost frantically inside Ishida's mouth.

Ishida's vision went black and he felt a building tingle in his right arm like a misplaced orgasm. He heard a frantic noise and realized that it was coming from his own throat, muffled by Kurosaki's enthusiastic mouth.

The pressure broke with an audible _clap_ and Ishida hastily threw his right arm away from his body. His bow exploded from his wrist and Kurosaki broke away from his mouth with a startled noise. Ishida stared at the bow, swallowing hard. An intricate, almost delicate thing, it was easily as long as Ishida was tall and so bright it was hardly blue at all. The numbness was fading and Ishida was aware of the way his body pulsed. The pain didn't return, but the flow of reiatsu out of his right arm translated into a physical sensation.

"Ishida..."

His attention turned back to Kurosaki who was still wrapped around him, pressed against him, restraining and supporting him in equal measure. As he watched the beautiful bow shiver with reiatsu, he felt a gnawing hollowness settle in his chest. Two years of struggling, frustrated and alone, and it was _Kurosaki_ that brought it out? And not just his bow, but this amazing thing? He could feel the power in it and it made his mind go cold with black rage.

"Please step away from me." He didn't know how he got the words out. Even more surprising, was that Kurosaki _did_ step away from.

"Ishida, I'm sorry, I don't know why-"

The bow wavered once Kurosaki's hands left Ishida's sides. It fluttered, pulsing with the remaining store of energy still swirling in his body. He fought to control it, to force it back in. He could remember that putting it away used to be the easy part.

The bow twisted, hesitated, and finally snapped. It wrenched his wrist sideways and dispersed in a brilliant shower of blue lights. Kurosaki looked nervous and awkward. He blushed red to his hairline and covered his face with one hand. "Ishida..."

Ishida's right arm fell to his side. It felt numb and heavy. He turned, pulled the door open with his good hand and left the room before he could say something he would regret.


	11. TEN

TEN::

The light was still on when Ishida stepped into the bare yard. He breathed a little sigh of relief, not quite sure what he would have done if everyone was asleep. Tessai met him at the door; his looming presence was strangely comforting and Ishida smiled a tired greeting.

Urahara was sitting at the table with tea. For all that he was making a valiant effort to look awake and aware, Ishida could tell that the man was newly out of bed and felt a stab of guilt over it.

"What a pleasant surprise, Ishida-kun."

Ishida sank into a cushion opposite Urahara and wrapped his cold hands around the tea cup. Winter was coming on strong and Ishida's hands felt like mobile icicles. He was still wearing the sweater he'd put on that morning, but he wasn't exactly thinking about the weather when he fled his dorm room and the great black hole that seemed to be growing in the middle of it, so his coat was still hanging on the back of his chair.

"Sorry to show up unexpectedly like this," Ishida murmured into the cup.

Urahara waved his closed fan at Ishida with a silly smile. "Nonsense! We love to see Ishida-kun, right, Tessai?"

The big man nodded stoically, his tea cup looking ludicrously small in his giant hands. Ishida nodded slightly, ducking his head so he wouldn't have to look at either one of them, so he wouldn't be tempted to ask for the horrible thing that was bouncing around inside his head.

"You look like you could use some sleep, Ishida-san."

Ishida glanced up at Urahara; the man's uncommonly serious eyes peeked out at him from the thin slit between the brim of his ever-present hat and opened fan. Ishida felt a blush creeping up his neck and over the swell of his cheekbones.

Urahara shattered the moment with a snap of his fan. "I know I'm going to suffer from a lack of beauty sleep if I don't turn in!" he bemoaned, all seriousness gone. "You remember where the guest rooms are, yes?"

Ishida nodded quietly and Urahara climbed to his feet. Tessai followed him out of the room, leaving Ishida alone with his tea and his thoughts. He finished the cup and picked up the set, carrying it back to the suspiciously well-stocked kitchen. Considering how traditional everything else in the house was, Ishida was surprised to see such a modern kitchen. He was an effective cook himself and understood the basics enough to know that any chef would be envious of the shiny new appliances and wide working spaces. Not knowing what else to do with it, he left the tea set by the sink after emptying the pot out, and shuffled to the hall.

The warm, familiar lines of Urahara's home drew him to the guest room like a magnet. The futon was already laid out, the blanket turned down. A pair of neatly folded pajamas and a white towel were arranged next to the futon. He smiled as he sat in front of the stack, picking up the toiletry set resting on top of the towel. A bear shaped sponge smiled up at him and he gingerly turned it over.

_Who decided that washing yourself with some creature's face was a good idea, anyways? _Strangely, it looked like something Kurosaki would use...

The memory of Kurosaki's lips on his rushed over him with frightening ease. At the time, all he could concentrate on was the pain, and then the numbness, and finally that amazing bow. Kneeling awkwardly with the toiletry set in his lap, he could remember how warm and soft Kurosaki's lips were, how smooth and wide his tongue was. Ishida could clearly remember Kurosaki's big hand on the back of his neck-

He made a terrified noise and shook his head forcefully, as if he could throw the thoughts out with the motion. Resolutely going through a mental list of biological terms to keep his mind occupied, he quickly changed into the borrowed pajamas and burrowed under the blanket. With the heavy comforter over his head, he felt like a child hiding from the monster in the closet.

_Goddamn you, Kurosaki Ichigo..._

~I~I~

A lone bird was chirping outside his window. Ishida peeled his eyes open in annoyance and quickly closed them again; the room was flooded with sunlight. He put a hand over his eyes and opened them again, slowly introducing them to the light.

"... time is it?" he muttered to himself. His throat was dry and his bladder was irritatingly full, but otherwise he felt remarkably comfortable and relaxed. Ishida felt around in his clothes until he found his cellphone and flipped it open. He blinked at the display, closed the phone and opened it up again. It still said 1:34.

Ishida couldn't remember the last time he'd slept past 7am and continued to stare at the innocent display in shock for several long moments. It was his bladder that finally convinced him that the phone was telling the truth and he hauled himself up, stuffed his feet into the slippers and stretched on his way out the door.

Urahara passed him in the hall with a smile. "They look good on you," he said in passing. Ishida was still too muzzy-headed to do anything other than mutter a thank you, and the sound of Urahara's laughter didn't even penetrate until he was in the bathroom with the door closed. He stared at his reflection as his cheeks heated. The pale blue pajamas were decorated with clouds and smiling yellow stars. The buttons were pink. There was lace on the cuffs.

"Why do they even carry these in adult sizes?" Ishida demanded of the mirror. It didn't respond and Ishida finally gave up in favor of the toilet.

His futon was put away and his clothing was missing by the time he returned to the room. In the place of the rumpled pile was a dark blue long-sleeved shirt that was too big across the shoulders and a pair of jeans that were several inches too long. He was forced to role the pant legs up so he wasn't walking on them and belt the waist. Ishida was half way down the hall before he realized that the clothes must belong to Urahara; there was no way they fit anyone else in the house.

It made him feel weird, both that he was walking around Urahara's house in Urahara's clothes, but also because he couldn't imagine the man in jeans and a tee shirt.

"So nice to see you up and aware, Ishida-kun," Urahara greeted. He was seated at the table with stacks of paper in front of him. Ishida glanced at the untidy mountains of documents and sat down slowly.

"Thank you for the clothing," he said, keeping his voice as even as he could.

Urahara smiled. Was it just Ishida's imagination, or was the man giving him a once-over? He stifled a blush and looked casually over the papers to distract himself from the shopkeeper's gaze. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

A messy stack of papers landed in front of him with a heavy sound. "Sort by paid and unpaid," Urahara ordered cheerfully.

"You don't... know which is which?" He looked at the mess of papers in horror. "How do you keep your records?"

"Oh... I have a box somewhere..."

Ishida's right eye twitched compulsively. "A box."

"Yes! It's green and has pink flowers on the side." The man looked completely innocent, as if there was nothing in the world wrong with using a green flower-printed box as a substitute for a filing cabinet. Ishida took a slow breath, adjusted the hem of his loaned tee-shirt and launched into the pile.

Sorting, alphabetizing, numbers, figures, _yes_ and _no_. He could do this. The hard quantifiable figures were familiar and mindless. He applied himself to the task with vigor that visibly startled his host. Once finished with the outgoing invoices, he appropriated the incoming invoices and, completely disregarding whatever obscure sorting method the shopkeeper was using, resorted everything into logical stacks.

~I~I~

Urahara watched the whirlwind that was Uryuu Ishida with a small smile. After his hands were given stinging slaps twice for getting in the way, he settled back and just observed. Ishida was muttering to himself too softly for Urahara to make out any words, but it was his guess that the man was invoking demonic powers.

"How do you get _anything_ done?" Ishida demanded after nearly an hour of silence broken only by the slide and shuffle of papers.

"We manage," Urahara replied, unruffled.

"Not very well! Do you even _have_ a system?"

"Of course I do!" Kisuke affected a wounded look. He pointed to one stack. "People I like-" his finger shifted to the larger stack. "And people I don't."

Ishida's eye was twitching again. Urahara thought the better of telling him that it was adorable and hid his smile behind his fan. It was nice to see Ishida with some energy. The young man had been withering slowly away over the last two years, largely unnoticed by those around him. And if organizing the shop's business records was the therapy, Kisuke was willing to make a noble sacrifice and let the man do it.

Once the files were neatly arranged and the accounts were balanced, Urahara retrieved his big green flower-printed box and scooped up a stack of invoices.

Ishida's hand was like a vice on his forearm. "Put it. Down. Now."

Had Ishida's voice always been so smoky and domineering? Urahara didn't think so, and frankly, it made him a little afraid for his life. He slowly set the stack back on the table and Ishida's grip loosened, releasing him only when the other man was sure that Urahara wasn't going to make a mad dash to sweep all the newly organized documents into his catch-all box.

Kisuke put on his most innocent expression and held both of his hands up to show his good intentions.

In a matter of moments, Ishida had a neatly penned list of office items in Tessai's hands and the big man took off with Jinta and Ururu over either shoulder. It was just a guess, but Urahara was fairly sure that Tessai was just as terrified of Ishida as he was.

_Coward, leaving me alone with this mad man!_

Kisuke sat very still and was careful not to make any sudden movements.

"Do you like to cook?" Ishida asked abruptly, making Kisuke blink is surprise. "Sorry, it's just... I saw your kitchen last night, and I just wondered..." The strangely terrifying creature inhabiting Ishida's body seemed to have fled, leaving him looking awkward and tired.

Careful not to disturb the table, Urahara stood and made a gesture with one hand for the Quincy to follow. Ishida hesitated briefly, but trailed after him into the kitchen.

"Tessai is really the better cook, but I have learned a few things to save us all from Ururu..." Kisuke announced from inside the giant refrigerator. He'd been forced to place a special order for the thing as most Japanese refrigerators were quite small. When he backed out of the fridge with his arms full, he found Ishida giving him a strange look. Kisuke puzzled over it, but pushed it aside and deposited his armload on the counter.

The boy was spacing off, and so was startled when Urahara dropped a cutting board in front of him. He pretended that he didn't notice and lined up various vegetables in front of the board.

"I can trust you with a knife, can't I?" he teased. He was looking for a very specific reaction, and Ishida didn't disappoint. He snatched the knife out of Urahara's hand and set to the head of cabbage with a vengeance.

They worked side-by-side in near silence. Kisuke made it a point to keep Ishida's mind off of whatever was bothering him badly enough to drive him away from school and all the way back to Karakura Town, to _hi_shouse. With as mistrustful of shinigami as he knew Ishida was, it seemed like a strange place to run away to.

He flipped the stir fry with practiced easy, adding ingredients and prodding them with his long cooking chopsticks. The pan sizzled and popped, making up for Ishida's increasingly heavy silence. Kisuke continued to pretend that nothing was wrong, that it was normal to have a depressed Quincy boy sitting in his kitchen, in his clothes, while he cooked stir fry.

Once he deemed the food done, he portioned it out onto plates and dipped into the constantly full rice cooker. He left the dishes in the sink and slid Ishida's plate across the island to him. Ishida picked up his chopsticks and bowed briefly over the plate.

"Thank you, Urahara-san."

Kisuke bought out his most charming smile. "It's the least I can do as thanks for tackling that monster out there." He pointed vaguely towards the dining room.

Ishida nodded faintly and tucked into the meal. They ate in silence that was a little too strained to be comfortable, but not heavy enough to be uncomfortable.

_Yare-yare... I've had my fill of angsting teenagers..._

He was just flipping through his list of innocent 'open up to me' one-liners when Ishida set his chopsticks down on the edge of his half-finished plate.

"Urahara-san? Will you..." His hands clenched the side of the counter tight enough to generate a faint squeaking sound. He wouldn't meet Kisuke's eyes. Ishida's shoulders slumped abruptly. "I need your help."

_Finally_. He smiled broadly. "Whatever you need, Ishida-san."

~I~I~

They stood across from one another under the basement's manufactured sunlight. Urahara smiled to imply that he knew what was going on despite the fact that he had only the faintest of ideas, and Ishida kept clenching and unclenching his fists at his sides while he tried to decide what to do, or work up the courage to ask.

The man blushed faintly beneath the rims of his glasses. "Touch me," he whispered. His voice was quiet enough that Kisuke could pretend he hadn't heard the Quincy right without any difficulty. He scooted closer, putting two fingers beneath his right ear.

"What was that?"

"...Please, touch me, Urahara-san." Ishida ground the words out like they were physically painful. His hands were balled into such tight fists that his arms were shaking.

"Well, if that's all you wanted, we could have stayed upstairs!" He laughed, because doing otherwise might have been dangerous.

Ishida's face flared even brighter red. "That's not what I meant!" he shouted. Urahara pouted at him playfully; the expression had the desired effect of putting the Quincy at ease. Ishida took a deep breath and pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. "Kurosaki touched me yesterday, and I was able to bring out a stable bow for the first time in two years."

He kept his back painfully straight and his voice strictly measured. He did these things to protect himself, but Urahara, who was more observant than he lead people to believe, could tell how much the admission hurt him. "You should have told me you were having problems getting it up, Ishida-kun. I would have been understanding-" He dodged a poorly-aimed kick and smiled innocently.

"Are you going to help or not?"  
>"Whatever you need, Ishida-kun!" He swung Benihime in her faux cane sheath and caught her under one arm, pulling out his 'unassuming idiot' mask as he did so. Ishida glared at him through narrowed eyes and Kisuke had a moment to wonder if the expression was going to work before Ishida nodded sharply and made a gesture with two fingers.<p>

"Stand behind me," Ishida directed.

_He makes this too easy._ "What ever you _say_, Ishida-_koibito_."

Ishida's eye twitched, but he seemed to be determined to ignore Urahara's suggestive comments. It was less fun, but just as well. If Ishida's little experiment had any chance of success, the boy would have to be calm and focused. He stood in the designated place and put a hand on Ishida's shoulder when directed to do so. Ishida was tense beneath him and winced when Kisuke's hand wrapped around his shoulder. He hesitated for several seconds and then slowly relaxed.

"I have more control than Kurosaki," Urahara said gently. _I'm not being comforting,just stating a fact._

Ishida nodded. "I know. Please release your reiatsu – slowly!"

Urahara couldn't help but smile. It had been such a long time since he'd worked in tandem with someone; it was a unique and uniquely addictive experience that he couldn't say he was sad to repeat. He relaxed and waited for Ishida to calm. The younger man was sealed up so tightly that Urahara wasn't sure he could push his spiritual pressure past it.

_And yet, Ichigo seems to have no trouble with it..._

He moved his hand so he was resting two fingers on the side of Ishida's neck. The man's pulse was fast and heavy beneath his fingers. His skin heated up with his blush. "Relax," Urahara suggested in his most sultry voice. "It will be easier."

"Just do it."

"Tch, so pushy!" Kisuke closed his eyes and concentrated on the pads of his fingers. He thought of nothing else until he could fell the tiny ridges of his fingerprints, the faint pulse of blood through the tiny capillaries. He could feel Ishida's pulse working as a counter melody to his own, could feel the fine hairs on Ishida's neck tickling his skin.

The tiny space beneath his fingertips thawed slowly, creating a channel that would feed directly into Ishida's reiatsu. His eyes peeled open and he caught a brief glimpse of the channels of Ishida's spiritual pressure, strangely dull blue beneath his skin.

_Interesting. _

It was like inserting a needle. Once he had a vein, he pushed his own reiatsu in. Ishida tightened up like a bow string. He stifled a scream behind his teeth and threw his head back until it nearly touched Urahara's chest. His neck was exposed like he was _offering _it up. Kisuke looked away and continued the tiny tap.

Ishida withstood the trial for several minutes and then lifted his right arm and tried to draw his bow out. Urahara knew it would fail even before the reiatsu gathered at Ishida's wrist and exploded outwards. It did not even take on the brief form of a bow, but simply went off like a reiatsu-projectile bomb, throwing energy shrapnel in all directions.

Ishida cried out and yanked his arm away from the blast and into his chest. Urahara let him go and Ishida held his wrist close to his chest while he struggled to breathe evenly.

"That was impressive," Urahara said brightly. When training hormonal young men – he had discovered from trial and error with one Ichigo Kurosaki – it was best not to let them dwell on their mistakes. Even the ones they couldn't have helped.

Ishida clenched his teeth. "Again."

Urahara said nothing. He certainly didn't tell Ishida that it would make no difference. Instead, he waited for the Quincy to right himself and set his fingers back to Ishida's smooth throat. The connection was easier to establish now that he knew Ishida's patterns. He began funneling again and Ishida arched back against him again.

"More," the younger man rasped through clenched teeth. His brows were knotted up tightly and a fine sheen of sweat was making his skin shine faintly.

_My, how you would look in softer light, Ishida Uryuu..._ He did as he was asked and Ishida screamed before he could rein the sound in. It distorted to a high-pitched whimper and he tossed his arm away from his body again. Ishida screwed his eyes closed tightly and bit his lower lip while he tried to concentrate on what was once an effortless process. A jagged spike shot upwards. It growled audibly and twisted, distorting as he tried to school it into the correct shape. Half of it peeled away and wrapped around his wrist like a constrictor. Ishida screamed against the backs of his teeth and pushed his head back into Urahara's chest. The strangling cord of bright blue energy cut into his arm and squeezed.

Urahara lifted his fingers and the would-be bow condensed tighter yet before finally shattering. He caught Ishida as the younger man pitched forward. The Quincy rested in his arms, entire body shaking from strain and shock. He was gasping in air like a man who'd narrowly escaped drowning.

Kisuke said nothing and the man eventually straightened up. He took a shaky breath and adjusted his glasses. "Again."

Urahara pursed his lips and brought one arm around the Quincy's waist to support him. He set his fingers back to the younger man's throat and quietly did as he was told.

~I~I~

Six attempts later, Ishida was barely supporting his own weight. _Forgive me, Grandfather, I'm so weak... _Urahara felt nothing like Kurosaki. Urahara's reiatsu – blessedly controlled – was soft and light and cooling, where Kurosaki's was heavy, like molten rock and flame. Urahara's hurt in an entirely different way; Ishida wasn't even sure that _hurt_ was the right word. After he got used to it, it was just uncomfortable, foreign. He was aware of it, but it wasn't exactly painful.

Urahara helped him to stand upright again. By that point, the taller man had both arms around Ishida's waist, one of which was underneath his shirt and resting low on his stomach for the apparently requisite skin-to-skin contact. Ishida might have been suspicious if Urahara was making lewd comments, or speaking at _all_, but the man had been silent since starting the exercise.

He swallowed hard in an attempt to moisten his throat. "Again." He tried to stay it _stronger_, but it came out like a plea.

"...Ishida-san-"

"Again. Please."

Urahara sighed. His fingers tightened against Ishida's skin and Ishida leaned into him, waiting for the cool press of the man's reiatsu. When it came, he bit his lip to keep from crying out. Originally nothing more than a trickle, it now felt like fast moving stream and he struggled to catch it and direct it outwards.

For a moment he almost felt it, the satisfying click when gears lined up correctly.It was going to work, it was going to work, it was going to – the gears slipped and electric blue bands wrapped around his wrist and grew snarling spikes.

_No!_ He tried to rein it in, tried to force the spikes together and into the correct shape. They stubbornly resisted, and when he pushed harder they snapped, shooting away from his arm at high velocity.

His knees finally gave out and Urahara went down with him, nearly cradling him.

"Working in tandem is difficult at the best of times," Urahara said quietly, uncommonly soothing.

Ishida's good hand curled into a fist. "Kurosaki didn't have any problems with it."

"You two are more compatible than you think."

A frustrated, angry noise ripped out of Ishida's throat and he pushed away from Urahara's arms and spun around to face him. His head kept spinning after his body stopped and he moaned, waiting for everything to stop moving. Urahara remained on the ground, his legs tucked up underneath his body, his green robe settling around him like a dark cloud.

_It's not Kurosaki. There's nothing special about Kurosaki! Nothing!_ He lunged forward, found Urahara's shoulders with both shaking hands and arched upwards to search out the man's lips. He missed the first time, his lips landing on the left side of the shopkeeper's scruffy jaw. Ishida quickly corrected his mistake, dragging his tongue over Urahara's lips and begging entry.

If he was thinking clearly, he would have been surprised that he was granted entrance. He wasn't thinking clearly, so he just pushed into Urahara's strangely cool mouth, exploring clumsily and not finding what he was looking for.

What was he looking for?

Urahara remained plaint and cooperative beneath him, but made no move to participate.

"Give it to me," Ishida pleaded helplessly, pulling back just long enough to murmur the words against Urahara's moist lips before diving back in.

~I~I~

Urahara knew he was talking about the reiatsu. The knowledge didn't stop his treacherous body from perking up at the sound of those words on Ishida's roughened voice. He took a deep breath through his nose and brought his hands up. They hesitated on Ishida's arms without his permission; they wanted (_he_ wanted) to drag the younger man closer to him so he could take possession of the kiss, turn it in_to_ a kiss, and not merely an assault.

That wasn't all he wanted to do.

He forced his hands to push the Quincy back. Ishida looked up at him with hazy, moist eyes. His lips were beautifully swollen and his cheeks were flushed.

"If you keep that up, I _will_ give it to you, and you might not like it." He forced his voice to be light, but it was more difficult than he wanted to admit. Ishida was like a broken toy in his hands. He sighed and pulled the younger man against him, directing Ishida's head to rest on his shoulder. Ishida nuzzled into him like a frightened cat and Kisuke thought it was quite possible that he'd never wanted to get up and destroy things as much as he did just then.

_Damn whoever taught me that thing about being responsible_, he mourned. Ishida went still and quiet in his arms and he realized that the man must have finally passed out.


	12. ELEVEN

ELEVEN::

Two days. Forty-eight hours. Ishida had been gone for almost three thousand minutes. Ichigo was aware of the number because he'd been awake for most of them. The ticking of the clock was impinging on his sanity. He'd never realized that his watch sounded like a blacksmith's hammer striking the anvil.

He'd gone through his classes in a daze and Kawagichi-sensei was so disgusted with his lack of attention that Ichigo was relegated to training by himself. With every pull-up, push-up, sit-up, squat and lunge his mind spun with the memory of his lips on Ishida's, his tongue in Ishida's mouth.

He had no idea what he was thinking when he did it; he didn't even know he'd _wanted_ to do that – he'd never thought about it before! Once he recovered from his shock after Ishida fled the room, he'd tried to go after the man, but stopped at the door. Nearly half an hour had passed by that point and Ishida could have been anywhere.

The realization that he didn't know where Ishida would go when he was feeling betrayed and needed safety settled a dark depression over him like a personal raincloud. He couldn't sense Ishida and didn't know him well enough to have even the faintest of ideas of where he would be. Renji- the bastard- was refusing to help, and in fact, hadn't said a word to Ichigo since he'd confessed his horrible betrayal. Even Chad seemed a little uncertain about the whole situation!

_DamnitdamnitdamnitdamnIT_. He jogged over to the punching back in the corner and laid into it, seeing his own face plastered all over it. _DAMNIT_.

Kawagichi clapped twice, the sound penetrating Ichigo's hysteria like a bell through fog. He landed a solid jab on the bag's side and abandoned it, jogging to his place on the mat. Once they were dismissed, he ran back to the dorms in some stupid hope that he would find Ishida sitting at his desk when he got there.

_He's never coming back_, Ichigo moaned melodramatically. _I didn't just kiss him, I _attacked_ him. I practically raped him! What is _wrong_ with me? _

The room was empty. Even though he'd expected it, the stillness still made his heart sink.

_Gods, Ishida... I'm sorry. _

~I~I~

The first thing Ishida was aware of was the pillow. It felt unnecessarily lumpy, and the futon felt unnecessarily thin. He swore he could feel the grooves of the tatami right through the pad.

"Water?" Urahara's cheerful voice made him instantly want to strangle something. Urahara was the closest something, but he was also promising water, so Ishida was willing to let him off the hook. He peeled an eye open slowly, but found that the room was lit only by filtered moonlight. He could barely make out Urahara's form in the darkness.

The shopkeeper helped him into an upright position and hovered with a hand behind his back until Ishida was steady on his own. He gulped down the water greedily, not even minding that it was dribbling out the sides of his mouth and over his jaw to soak into the bandages wrapping his chest from shoulder to waist.

Once the glass was drained, he handed it back. "Thanks."

Urahara made a non-committal noise that passed for a 'you're welcome.' Ishida sighed, remembering the failed exercise. Bandages wrapped around his right arm from wrist to shoulder, so he couldn't assess the damage.

"Black and blue all the way down!" Urahara assured him, still unnecessarily cheerful.

Ishida glared faintly in his direction. _I can't believe I kissed-_ He stopped and his eyes widened. He hadn't really done that, right? But the remembered pressure on his lips said otherwise. He swallowed hard, happy for the darkness and his poor eyesight.

"Urahara-san... about this afternoon..."

Urahara made a forestalling sound. He chuckled roughly. "I distinctly remember that you had your tongue down my throat not twelve hours ago. I think you can call me 'Kisuke.' In private, of course!"

Ishida cleared his throat, surprised that he really didn't feel as embarrassed as he would have expected. "Of course... Kisuke," he tried the name out, and liked the way it rolled off his tongue.

"Once you feel better, you should probably return to school," Urahara mused. "You've already missed two days of classes..."

"Oh, god..." He flopped back to the futon and winced when the sudden motion made his vision swim nauseatingly.

"You may return on the weekends, however. We'll find a way to restore your powers, Ishida, I promise."

The offer made him feel unexpectedly warm and he nodded. "I will."

"Well! I'll see you in the morning. Get some sleep, Ishida-kun."

A laugh bubbled out of his throat and he smiled. "I distinctly remember having my tongue down your throat not twelve hours ago,_ Kisuke_. I think you can call me 'Uryuu.'" He couldn't see the shopkeeper's expression, but he got the impression that the man was smiling.

"Sleep well."

He was drifting off before the door even closed completely.

~I~I~

When Ishida pushed into the dorm room, Kurosaki was asleep at his desk. One hand hung limply at his side, barely holding a pencil by the tips of his fingers. He was also drooling on his homework. Ishida couldn't help the half smile that drifted over his lips. He rescued Kurosaki's homework and gently eased the pencil away from his fingers. He set both safely out of harm's way and draped a blanket over the man's shoulders.

If circumstances were normal, Ishida would have woken him up and sent him to bed. But circumstances were hardly normal and Ishida found that he wasn't quite ready to face his roommate. Instead, he grabbed his own homework and slipped back out of the room.

Of all people to run into, it was Chad that he found at the library diligently peering into his history text with a look so determined that Ishida was worried the book might catch fire. He didn't really feel like company and would have just hurried up the stairs, but Chad saw him before he had a chance to escape. Resigned, he joined the bigger man at the table and started unpacking his things.

At least it was Chad he stumbled across and not Renji – who would demand to know where he'd been – or Inoue – who would just look at him with her face twisted in a worried frown. Chad nodded in greeting and went back to his text book. He held the book so close to his face that Ishida wasn't sure how he wasn't going cross-eyed. Ishida watched him for a few moments and then set about neatly arranging his notebooks, pens and highlighters before taking out his own books. He was far ahead in all of his courses, but the missed days had reduced his margin, particularly in human anatomy.

They studied silently for almost an hour. The silence and the comforting motion of taking notes, and absorbing simple finite facts lulled Ishida into a relaxed daze. He was a little startled when Chad closed his book and slapped it down on the table.

"Ishida."

Ishida looked up nervously. The man had a dark look on his face and his left eye was twitching beneath his fringe. "Yes...?"

"Have you eaten dinner?"

The question was so unexpected that Ishida stumbled over his answer, fighting a laugh. "Not yet."

"Will you come and eat ramen with me and Renji?"

Ishida did laugh; his voice was so serious that he might have been asking Ishida to make a suicide pact with him. "Sure, Sado-san. Give me a second to get to a good place." Chad nodded stiffly and Ishida shook his head a little as he bent back over his book, hyper-aware of Chad's eyes on him while he finished his notes for the section and packed up.

~I~I~

Renji was already into his second bottle of sake when they arrived at the little ramen shop. They were greeted by the owner, standing behind the counter in his white hat and apron.

"ISHIDA!" Renji roared. His voice was accusatory as he stumbled to his feet and pointed somewhere above Ishida's left shoulder. "You!"

"Calm down, Abarai-san, I'm not going to run," Ishida drawled. He lifted an apologetic hand to the friendly shop owner and slid into Renji's booth. The red head considered him carefully through narrowed eyes and then flopped back into his seat. He was wearing his tight jeans and a printed tee shirt. He shifted irritably and tried to pull his jeans up once he was seated.

"Not takin' you shoppin' with me any more!" he groused.

Chad sat gingerly next to Ishida and they ordered their ramen while Renji finished off the bottle and ordered another. Once the shopkeeper was back behind the counter, Renji planted his elbows on the table and pointed to Ishida with both index fingers.

"What did he do to do you?" He sounded more sober than he looked and Ishida suddenly felt trapped with Chad blocking the exit.

"What did who do to me?" he asked calmly, wishing he had something to drink. He took his glasses off and polished them with a strip of cloth so he had something to do with his hands.

"Kurosaki! What did that bastard do? And don't say 'nothing'!" Renji warned. "I know he did something. You better tell me!"

Ishida took a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh. He replaced his glasses and settled his forearms on the table. He laced his fingers together and met Renji's narrowed eyes.

"He kissed me."

"...He kissed you?"

Ishida nodded.

"That's it?"

He shrugged. He was hardly going to tell them anything else. "That's it."

Renji laughed and Chad visibly relaxed next to him. "Che. That baka! To hear him tell it, he practically raped you!"

Ishida felt his face fill with blood and wasn't sure if he was more embarrassed or angry. "What?" His right eye twitched compulsively and he tipped his face so his glasses caught the light.

"Asshole has been moping around like someone kicked his dog, punishing himself and angsting like a teenage girl." Renji rolled his eyes expressively. "He said he attacked you and forced himself on you."

"What a... drama queen!" Ishida managed finally. To think, he actually spread a blanket over the moron and saved his homework from drowning in a puddle of drool!

"I was ready to beat the ever livin' shit out of him," Renji confessed. The new bottle of sake arrived and he quickly poured out three shots. Technically, both Ishida and Chad were underage, but Ishida snatched the cup up and knocked back the strong alcohol. Hopefully everything would look better through a haze of intoxication.

"But then I remembered that Kurosaki is a damn martyr and thought I'd wait for your side of the story." He snorted. "Maybe I should beat the shit out of him just for being a damn drama queen. You should have seen him! He looks like... I don't know. Like he killed someone."

Ishida scrubbed his hands over his cheeks and pushed his fingers under his glasses to press into the corners of his eyes. "I'll straighten it out," he promised.

"Thank _you_. It's fucking annoying and I think Kawagichi-sensei might kill him if you don't."

They ate in relative silence, only the sound of clicking chopsticks and Renji's occasional outburst marring the quiet. Ishida appreciated the silence and felt himself relaxing; maybe returning to school wouldn't be so bad.

Surprisingly, it was Chad who finally started the conversation again. "I've never seen him get upset like this."

"Eh? What're you talkin about? That idiot? He's always yellin about something..."

"He doesn't let it show when he's really upset," Chad argued back calmly.

Ishida nodded slowly. He'd watched Ichigo Kurosaki for a long time and it hadn't taken long for him to notice that the redhead hid any real concerns behind loud fits over small things. Kurosaki made noise to cover up his own silence.

"I hadn't noticed," Ishida lied. Kurosaki's behavior had been nothing short of puzzling since they left Kurakura Town – since they returned from Soul Society, in fact. Consumed with his own problems, Ishida did what he could to avoid Kurosaki all together, but even he wasn't blind to the fact that Kurosaki seemed to be taking everything harder than usual – hard enough to let it show.

"Better watch him closer," Renji announced with a resigned sigh. "Can't have that kid blowing up – nothin' within three worlds would survive." For all that his lips were jerked up into a smirk, his voice resonated with grave seriousness. Renji set back to his meal with gusto, seeming to put the whole issue of Ichigo Kurosaki out of his head. Chad was politely pretending he was mute and dumb and Ishida watched Renji calmly with his glasses angled to reflect the light away from his eyes.

_Something is going on that he can't... or won't tell us..._

~I~I~

By the time they finished their meal, Renji had to be carried from the booth.

"Idiot," Ishida growled, fighting to support the taller man when he lurched away from Chad and clung to the Quincy. "You shouldn't get so drunk on a school night!"

Chad caught the shinigami around the waist and pried him away from Ishida's neck. Easily distracted in his drunken state, Renji had no qualms turning his attention to Chad and flung both of his arms around the man's waist.

"You're so... fuckin tall, Sado...kun...sugar. Saaaado. Sugar. Sado!" He burst into a rolling laugh that quickly degenerated into cackles and then giggles, and then hiccups. Ishida would have bet money that he was masking sobs with the noises.

_He only just found the correlation?*_

Implacable as always, Chad lumbered on without comment. When Renji finally passed out half way to the dorm, Chad patiently knelt and Ishida helped drag the man onto his back. He didn't even seem to mind Renji drooling on his shoulder.

"He must be very stressed," Chad observed after several quiet minutes.

Ishida agreed with a small sound, thinking back to the seriousness in Renji's voice. He doubted that it was the stress of exams, or even of dealing with Juro that had Renji Abarai in such a state. He couldn't fathom the details, but it was a fair guess that Ichigo Kurosaki was at the heart of it all.

_And that usually means catastrophe for everyone else. _Ishida sighed and reached up to rub his eyes beneath his glasses.

"It's hard starting school in the middle of the semester," he finally volunteered, knowing that Chad would be no more fooled by the excuse than he was.

"Hn," the big man agreed faintly.

Only Renji's snores broke the silence as they walked, Ishida locked too far into his own musing to be much for conversation. The sound of their feet on the concrete was somehow soothing and the play of moonlight breaking through the clouds drew his attention away from his problems. He watched the patched silver dance over the walkway and into the dark grass with a smile. Ishida remembered chasing after such patches of moonlight with his grandfather.

_"If you can catch the moonlight in your hand, the moon spirits will watch over you always, but you must be gentle or it won't stay." _His grandfather's voice echoed in his head, undiminished by time and distance. They spent an hour on the hillside, hoping from one ragged patch of moonlight to the next. Ishida was so excited every time he closed his fist in the silver puddles, and equally devastated when he opened his hand to find it empty.

A smile jerked at his lips and he felt a sudden urge to chase after the moonlight like he had then. The thought was so ridiculous that he started laughing. Chad glanced over at him curiously and Renji peeled one eye open to glare at him.

"I wonder what it would be like... to catch the moonlight..." he murmured, watching a large pool of light open in front of them. For a moment, even the hard concrete looked soft beneath it.

"Lucky," Renji answered, his voice slurring enough to make it sound like _Lucy_

Ishida smiled. "Very lucky." Unable to resist, Ishida stepped into the light and held both hands out. His fingers started to curl, but he stopped and stared down at his palms and felt another laugh building his chest.

_Look grandfather... I've caught the moonlight in my hands..._

The clouds moved and the light seemed to slide off of his fingers.

~I~I~

By the time they made it to Chad and Renji's dorm room, Ishida realized that getting the uncooperative shinigami there and up all four flights of stairs was not the difficult part; getting him into bed might prove to be impossible.

Ishida stood in the middle of the room and looked dubiously up at the loft bed. Unphased by the daunting task, Chad set Renji down in a chair and then lifted him forward over a shoulder. He stepped confidently up the ladder, easily balancing the leggy redhead with one hand. Ishida remembered that he'd once woken up on Chad's bed without remembering climbing up and supposed that he had his answer.

With a little maneuvering, Renji was laid out flat across the bed and Chad was back on the floor.

"Should we take his shoes off?"

Ishida sighed. "I guess so." He toed his sneakers off and climbed up the ladder, carefully crawling over the sleeping man to sit beside him. Renji was wearing a pair of flat shoes that laced half-way up his calf with numerous buckles to loosen before the ties could be undone. Ishida glared down at them, remembering buying them and how funny he thought it was to see Renji struggling with the ties.

_Guess I'm getting what I deserve... _He set to working the buckles loose, tossing first one and then the other down to Chad. Moving awkwardly in the limited space, he even managed to get the blanket up over his sleeping friend.

"That will have to do. If he complains about sleeping in his jeans, remind him not to drink so much next time," Ishida muttered. Chad nodded stoically, already preparing to go to bed himself. When Ishida tried to get back to the ladder though, Renji reached out and snatched his arm, dragging him down to the mattress.

"Abarai-san!" He struggled against Renji's restraining arms, but the bigger man just squeezed tighter.

"Stay," Renji whispered. He pushed his face into Ishida's neck, his hair falling over them both in ticklish waves. "For a... little bit..."

He smelled strongly of alcohol and his hair really _was_ annoying.

_But it's... nice..._ His body relaxed without his permission and Renji's arms loosened enough to be comfortable. _I'll just stay until he falls asleep..._


	13. TWELVE

TWELVE::

When Ishida woke up, Renji's face was inches away from his own. The lieutenant was glaring at him and his breath didn't exactly smell like roses.

"What're you doin in my bed?" Renji asked suspiciously.

Ishida couldn't help making a face and planted a hand on Renji's mouth to push him away. "Go brush your teeth!"

Renji repeated his question through Ishida's hand, the words greatly muffled but still understandable. His teeth felt fuzzy and slimy against Ishida's palm and the quincy fought down a shudder.

"You're the one who trapped me here when I was trying to get down, so if you didn't sleep well, it's your own fault!" Ishida struggled upright and stretched awkwardly around Renji's hunched form. He actually felt... pretty good. Not that he was going to tell Renji Abarai that little tidbit!

"We didn't...?"

Ishida smacked him across the back of his head, making the shinigami curl forward to the mattress with a groan. Ishida winced sympathetically – the man probably had a monster headache. But that didn't excuse him from being an asshole!

"I'm not even going to qualify that with an answer," Ishida quipped, climbing around Renji to the ladder. "Besides, you were so drunk last night that I doubt you could have," he delivered as an afterthought, sufficiently satisfied by Renji's shocked look to assuage his own hurt pride. Why would it have been so horrible if they had, anyways?

Ishida stumbled down the last two rungs and resisted smacking himself. _Get __a hold __of __yourself, __Uryuu! __First __Kurosaki, __then __Urahara...__now __Renji? _He sighed heavily. _I __really __need __to __get __laid, __I __think..._

The thought was so unprovoked that he actually blushed.

"Good morning, Ishida-san."

"Ah! Sado-san... you startled me." Nevermind that it was _Sado's_ room. Ishida cleared his throat. "Sorry I just invaded your room," he apologized with a bow.

"Hey! Why aren't you apologizing to _me_ for invading _my __bed?_" Renji demanded, scowling face appearing over the side of the bed. His eyes were bloodshot and his hair was a rumpled mess. There were also lines crisscrossing his face from where the pillow -and Ishida's shirt- left impressions.

"You should be apologizing to _me_ for trapping me there," Ishida snapped back. He straightened his clothing and sat to pull his shoes on.

"You are welcome here whenever you want." Chad's announcement was sudden over Renji's grumbling that it made Ishida blush again.

He willed the blood out of his face and put on his best neutral expression. "Thank you."

The big man nodded, seemingly out of words for the morning and gathered his toiletries to take to the shower. Ishida watched him go, not sure how to interpret his unexpected offer.

"You are, ya know."

Ishida paused at the door and looked back up at Renji. He still looked miserable, but his expression seemed calmer, more sober.

"What?"

"Welcome here. Whenever. If you want." He glared for good measure and Ishida summoned up a smile and repressed his laughter.

"Thank you... Abarai-_koibito_."

_Why __did __I __do __that?_ Ishida demanded of himself as he fled the room in time to avoid the pillow aimed for his head. His face was hot with blood and he hurried to the stairs before anyone could notice him and wonder what he was doing rushing out of Chad and Renji's room with his facing looking like a ripe cherry.

_It's __Urahara. __It's __all __Urahara's __fault. __He __was __just __teasing __me __about..._ Ishida leaned against the wall in the empty stairwell and groaned, slapping a hand over his face. He was half-hard. Over Renji Abarai! _I _do _need __to __get __laid..._

I~I~

On the long list of people who Ishida _didn't_ want to see at just that moment, James Daishi was probably number two.

His first thought was to just turn right back around as soon as he saw the blond half-Japanese man leaning on the wall beside his door. However, Daishi saw him before he could complete his roundabout maneuver and he was forced to continue. Plan B was to walk straight past him and slam the door in his face.

"Ishida!"

Plan B was not going to work if he was going to shout. Ishida sighed and came to a weary halt. His right eye was already twitching. In all fairness, the general irritation of the semester combined with the more specific irritations of Kurosaki's stupidity and his irrational arousal to any breathing male on two feet were probably more to blame for his dark glare than Daishi's shy smile.

"Yes, Daishi-san?" He could practically feel the icicles forming on his teeth. If the boy had any common sense, he'd turn tail and run.

Oblivious, Daishi smiled brighter. "I wanted to apologize."

"How did you even know I was back on campus?"

"I...didn't, actually. I've been waiting here for you," the man confessed. He cleared his throat. "Yesterday and today."

Ishida reached up beneath his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. "There's no reason you and Kurosaki shouldn't get along. You're like two pees in a pod."

Whereas Ishida's icy tone didn't penetrate, comparing the man to Kurosaki generated a reaction similar to what Ishida would expect from suggesting jumping out of an airplane sans parachute. The incredulous look on his face was almost worth the irritation of seeing him.

"Look, I just wanted to apologize. And I have something for you. Can I come in?"

"Will you go away if I say no?"

Charming smile back in full force, Daishi shook his head. "Probably not."

Ishida sighed and fished his keys out to open the door. "What is it?"

"First, I really am sorry. All of that... well, just all of it. I'm sorry. You can look after yourself and you don't need an almost-stranger butting into your business."

_Damn __right._

"The other thing... my mother has Marfan Syndrom."

Ishida cocked an eyebrow at him. "I'm sorry," he offered finally, unsuccessfully masking his impatience.

"It's a condition that's pretty painful. And it causes her to bruise easily." Daishi was shifting from one foot to the other.

It took Ishida a minute to catch on, but he hastened to reassure the man. "I do _not_ have Marfan Syndrom."

Daishi cocked a smirk. "I guessed that much. But I was thinking about what you said, and all of your... symptoms. I thought... it must be pretty painful for you. What you do have."

Ishida adjusted his glasses and looked away, scrolling through his memory for a suitable non-life threatening condition that could explain his bruising without being too memorable. He wondered briefly if he could make something up, but quickly discarded the idea; Daishi would probably look it up and they would be back to square one with the being-abused-by-Kurosaki scenario. He was considering just telling the man to mind his own goddamned business when a rattle called his attention.

"I guessed you would be the stubborn type of guy that wouldn't want to go to a doctor for a script, so... These are for you." He offered Ishida a conspicuous green prescription bottle.

"... Are these your mother's pain medications?" Ishida asked, dumbfounded.

"She's also the stubborn type and doesn't like to take them. They're a little bit outdated, but they should still be pretty effective – better than nothing anyways, and probably better than something over the counter."

"I can't take these." Ishida held them back out, feeling suddenly guilty even though he hadn't _exactly_lied about his 'condition.'

"It's alright, really. I told her about you and she gave them to me. Promise! You can even call her if you want and ask. She also gave me these..." He fished into his jeans' pocket and pulled out a handful of folded glossy pamphlets. "Pain management.. support groups, all that."

"...I think this might actually be the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me," Ishida admitted slowly. Daishi was rapidly dropping down the list of people he didn't want to see. "...thank you."

Daishi smiled. "I just hope it helps. Otherwise, I really _will_ fail econ."

Gratitude dispersed, Ishida glared again.

"I've got to get going, or I'll be late. Just... let me know if you need anything." The man grinned and hurried out of the room before Ishida could generate a suitable retort.

_I __still __think __he's __gay._

Ishida dropped the pamphlets to his desk and turned the bottle over, musing over the label. The name was blacked out, along with all the important identification information, but the medication name was still clearly visible. Ishida quirked an appreciative eyebrow – Oxycontin was nothing to make light of.

"-S_hida!__"_ The door banged open and Kurosaki came through foot first. Ishida winced at the crack of the knob hitting the wall. He glared hotly as Kurosaki stomped into the room and slammed the door behind him. On the long list of people who Ishida _didn't_ want to see, Kurosaki was number one by a massive margin.

If Daishi hadn't been there, Ishida could have gotten dressed and been gone before Kurosaki showed up. He clenched his teeth, took a slow breath through his nose and turned away stiffly to get his clothing.

"What was _that __guy_ doing in here?" Kurosaki demanded. He flung the door shut behind him with another resounding _crash_.

_God, __what __our __neighbors __must __think,_ Ishida mourned, steadfastly ignoring his roommate. They had things to talk about – namely the fact that Kurosaki was acting like a teenage girl and spreading the rumor that Ishida had been _raped_ – but that would have to wait until Ishida could think clearly and Kurosaki calmed down. His reiatsu was all over the place and Ishida's raw channels were especially sensitive after the weekend with Urahara.

Maybe the Oxycontin wasn't a bad idea after all...

"_Ishida!__"_

"WHY DO YOU CARE?"

"Because! I don't want that guy in my room!" Kurosaki was in a full tantrum. Ishida just wished the Karakura Town "Ichigo Kurosaki is so cool" fan club could see him. Kurosaki would be booted out of his own cult.

"Ishida..." Kurosaki growled. He grabbed Ishida by his good arm, and Ishida should have expected it, but he still had some ridiculous notion that Kurosaki wasn't 'physically demonstrative' and it kept catching him off guard. He hissed at the electric stab and yanked his hand away. The pill bottle went flying and Kurosaki reached up automatically to snatch it out of the air. He peered at it in silence and Ishida could feel his heart thundering against his chest while he waited for Kurosaki to come to natural conclusion.

"What the fuck, Ishida? Is that guy your drug dealer or something?" His eyes narrowed. "What are you _paying_ him with?"

Reiatsu be damned, Ishida smacked the asshole across the face and delivered a solid punch to his gut. Kurosaki was so taken off guard that he doubled over, dropping the bottle.

"You really are a piece of work, Kurosaki! How dare you call _me_ a whore."

"I didn't," Kurosaki pointed out breathlessly.

"Why would you _ever_ think that _I_ would be doing drugs?"

"Then what else are you doing with that?" Kurosaki jabbed a finger at the discarded bottle, half hidden under Ishida's desk.

"It's none of your business." Ishida kept his fists firmly at his side and clenched his jaw. The adrenalin was masking the needling pain of Kurosaki's damn reiatsu and for the time, Ishida felt nothing but rage.

_What __was __I __thinking, __coming __back __here?_

_~I~I~_

Ichigo kept one hand over his stomach and straightened up slowly. He couldn't remember Ishida ever being able to hit that well and wasn't sure when the man had gotten better. Maybe it was just because Ichigo was so well tenderized already.

"It is my business," he pressed out. His mind was working on a way to push the clock back. The entire time Ishida was gone, all he could think about was what to say to make it better. Talking out whatever stupid problem they had and starting over. He'd practiced full dialogues until he couldn't keep track of what he was talking about or whose role he was playing. His pillow was still propped up against his chair from his ineffectual attempt to rehearse like he'd seen Yuzu do so many times with her stuffed animals.

"_Why,_ Kurosaki, why is it your business? Why now, all the sudden, after all these years... two solid years of not noticing _anything_ is it suddenly _your__business?_"

That wasn't in the script. Ichigo hesitated, trying to sort through the question. He could sense that there was a lot more behind it than he was comprehending. But it was like looking at a thousand piece puzzle with only fifty of the pieces and no picture.

"You were right the other night, Kurosaki."

That might have been in the script around 4am when he was going delirious from sleep deprivation...

"This _does_ have to stop. You need to stop getting into my business, stop acting like it has anything to do with you and stop pretending that you have a right to feel guilty."

"I hurt you," Ichigo whispered. He couldn't meet Ishida's eyes.

"You hurt me just by _being __here_," Ishida hissed.

Ichigo winced, feeling the barb pierce deep. "Then tell me how I can fix it!" He knew he was begging, but he hated this crap. Give him something to swing a sword at – trying to decipher anyone's feelings was so far out of his comfort zone that he hardly knew which direction was up.

"I'm so fucking sick of repeating myself! Give me one damn good reason why you care at all and I'll _tell __you __how __to __fix __it_."

The snarl in his voice was enough to lift the hairs on the back of Ichigo's neck and rile his temper again. "BECAUSE I L-!" _love __you._

He must have looked as thunderstruck as he felt, because Ishida only rolled his eyes, grabbed a handful of clothing and abandoned the room. Ichigo was left frozen in the middle of the room with his mouth open for a good minute after the door slammed shut.

"Why's he always the one that gets to storm out?" he asked his pillow finally.

_Because __you're __too __damn __stupid __to __quit __when __you're __ahead_.

It felt like he'd been blindfolded his entire life and was just introduced to the sun. The light was cauterizing and his head felt numb. Sheer self preservation must have the kept the word in his throat. He couldn't even begin to imagine what would have had happened if he just shouted _that_ at the top of his lungs. Half the floor was probably already crowded into the rooms on either side of them, listening eagerly to them fight. Normal humans had too much time on their hands and nothing was more interesting than a little drama.

The green bottle caught his eye and he knelt down and picked it up, peering at the label. Crazy Goat-face started drilling the names, uses and dangers of various medications into his head when Ichigo was seven. He still remembered being ambushed with _oxycodone__hydrochloride_ one day the second he got home from school and getting tossed half-way across the living room for not coming up with the answer quickly enough.

"What could you want these for...?" Ichigo wondered stupidly. His face burned; he should have just asked. Ishida might have even told him. What was he thinking? Accusing Ishida of being a drug addict _and_ selling his body in one breath?

_Love...?__Why __did __that __word...__come __to __me?_ Ichigo wasn't even sure he knew what it meant. Not that kind of love. He could comprehend _love_ for family – his sisters, even his father. But the kind of love between two... what? Friends? Men? Non-relations?

_Why __don't __we __try __the __word _'jealousy' _on __for __size?_ his head whispered to him viciously.

He dropped into Ishida's chair with a heavy sigh. His pillow seemed to glare at him reproachfully from across the room and he turned irritably away from it. The light caught on a folded wedge of glossy paper and Ichigo reached out thoughtlessly to smooth the packet out. Ishida kept his space so ridiculously orderly that the man would probably have a aneurism to see anything waded up like that...

COPING WITH CHRONIC PAIN

Ichigo stared stupidly at the pamphlet and the outdated picture of an elderly woman in a wheel chair. The young man behind her was wearing a getup that was probably fashionable thirty years earlier. Ichigo turned the pamphlet over to look at the next.

YOU'RE NOT ALONE; SUPPORT GROUPS FOR CHRONIC PAIN

_ "You hurt me just by breathing the same air!"_

HOLISTIC PAIN MANAGEMENT

_"__Don't __ever __touch __me.__"_

MODERN PAIN TREATMENT

_"__Not __everyone. __Just __you.__"_

Little pieces started clicking together; Ishida's expression relaxing when Ichigo was across the room. The way he tensed up any time Ichigo approached. Masked winces. His sometimes violent reactions to being touched. No... not being touched. Being touched by _Ichigo_.

Now he had too many puzzle pieces, and still no picture to reference. All he was left with was an unrecognizable dark shape slowly taking from in the recesses of his mind. A chill danced down his spine and he was suddenly sure that Ishida's words were literal.

_How __am __I __hurting __you?_

_ "If you don't get a hold of your damn reiatsu, you're going to start hurting a lot more people than just me!"_

For the second time in as many hours, Ichigo was struck witless. He remembered thinking the words were strange then, but he'd been too keyed up to really think about them, and had been thinking about too much since to remember them. That same night, Ishida also said that Ichigo hurt him by breathing. At the time, he'd assumed it was just an insult.

He stared dumbly down at the bottle of pills.

_My...reiatsu?_


	14. THIRTEEN

THIRTEEN::

The smell of ink was beginning to grow on him. Renji knelt before the cabinet and carefully sorted through the inks, twisting each bottle so they lined up and the colors were easily visible. The black was empty again; Juro had a gang of seven guys in the night before, all wanting thick black chevrons across the backs of their necks.

Juro let him stay to watch, and even though the way the guys stared at him creeped him out a little, Renji had to admit that the process itself was pretty fucking cool. He'd never considered himself a very artistic person, but watching Juro work made his fingers itch to pick up a pen. The tattooist was probably one of the strangest people Renji had ever met (and that really said a lot), and honestly the guy frightened him a little bit. Not the same way Kuchiki-taichou frightened him -that really physical sense of an unease, the certain knowledge that the man really could kill him with a look if he felt up to it – but more like the way Ishida frightened him. There was something deep in Juro that growled while it slept.

With the tattooing pen in his hand, the too-slender, strange man was subsumed and he became something almost...beautiful? Renji rolled his eyes and barely resisted smacking himself in the forehead. Beautiful was _not_ the word, because _guys __aren't __beautiful_.

He remembered waking up with Ishida in his bed, the man's eyes closed behind his glasses – those infernal shields of his still in place, even in sleep – and he remembered his reaction to _that_ sight perfectly well. Remembered gently resettling Ishida's glasses on his nose so they sat straight. Remembered watching the man's lips press together and part slowly, his tongue drifting out to moisten them-

_Still __not __beautiful_, he grumbled. _Cute, __maybe..._

The back of his neck tingled and Zabimaru chuckled. _Liar_, the zanpakutou whispered fleetingly and withdrew.

_Coward!_ Renji shot back.

"Stop staring at the empty bottle and go fill it up," Smith growled, interrupting the long conversation Renji had been having with himself.

Renji flushed what he was sure was an unattractive shade of red, and hurried to his feet. He cleared his throat and tried to come up with some flippant response, but Smith was giving him a _look_. Smith had a lot of _looks; _he communicated more with _looks_ than with words. This particular _look_ said "I'm in a bad mood, you're an easy target and I don't have a boss or any customers to distract me right now, so you better get of my sight before I do something drastic that might involve broken mirrors."

In another couple hundred years, he might just be able to have a _look_ conversation with Kuchiki-taichou.

Renji gave him a smile to show that he wasn't really all that intimidated and flipped the empty bottle up to catch it out of the air. He turned on his boot heel and wandered back to Juro's office, where the man was doubtlessly curled over his desk, getting drool on his sketches. Missing the door, the entrance to Juro's back office/supply closet was protected by a sheet with a split down the center and a cascade of beads on either side to make it stay. Renji parted it quietly, checking to see if the man was asleep... and froze. Pulse jumping up to his throat and eyes going so wide it almost hurt, Renji found himself stuck in the doorway with the curtain still caught by his arm.

Sketches scattered haphazardly across the floor, delicate cherry blossoms holding down snarling dragons and sweet mermaids. Somehow, Renji picked out the splashes of color on each even though his eyes never tore away from Juro's braid, wrapped around a colored forearm. The tattooist _was_ curled over his desk. But his hands were clutching the edges like vices. He bit down hard on a strip of cloth shoved between his teeth and his eyes were squeezed shut tightly, as if in pain-

_If __pain __looks __that __fantastic,_ Renji's numb brain supplied.

His pants were down around his ankles, his lean, tattooed body nestled back against unblemished pale skin. They moved together with familiarity that bespoke practice, rough and frantic, their breath harsh and the slap of their skin making contact filling the room with a strange counter-melody to the soft music Juro always played.

_It __only __just __looks __like __him_, Renji argued. His eyes almost refused to drift upwards to look at Juro's lover's face.

_His __lover?_

It didn't seem like the right word. These two were loving. They were _fucking,_plain and simple. One strong, pale hand pressed into Juro's back, holding him down, while the other was tangled in the man's hair, with the long braid wrapped around his right forearm. The tattooist's head jerked back suddenly and he screamed against his gag, scrabbling at the desk for purchase and willingly pushing back into the other man's hold.

When Juro's eyes drifted open, Renji immediately thought that he should turn away. Leave quickly and pretend that he never _saw_ this, but he couldn't move. Juro's lust filled, pain filled, pleasure hazed eyes turned and met his over the short distance (such a short distance that he could see the sweat drifting down the guy's neck). Renji expected shock. He expected the tattooist to get his partner's attention in a rush of curses that would finally break Renji's stupor and send him running from the shop and the strange welling tightness in his chest.

Juro smiled at him around the gag. His eyes danced with mirth. His look was almost one of invitation. _Come__play_, it said. Renji found the idea both compelling and revolting. He didn't want that with Juro, the strange, too-slender man who frightened him a little.

_But __you __want __that __with __Ishida?_ Zabimaru asked curiously.

_It's __not...__It __only __looks __like __him..._ he protested weakly. That toned, pale man who moved with all the sensual grace and power of a panther Could. Not. Be. Ishida.

The man who looked a little like Ishida gave Juro another sharp pull, forcing the tattooist's head back and his attention back to what they were _doing_. His frantic thrusts sped up until they looked truly damaging and then stopped suddenly. His body went taunt and he leaned backwards at an almost dangerous angle while Juro whined and thrashed underneath him and finally joined him in muted, screaming climax.

_Remind __me...__not __to __sit __in __that __chair..._ was all Renji could think.

The pair relaxed slowly. The Ishida-lookalike unwound Juro's braid from his forearm and came to rest on the tattooist's back.

_Not __tattoos...__bruises..._

All the energy seemed to flood out of his strong body and Renji's stomach took a sickening drop. _It __really _is _Ishida!_

Renji might have stood frozen there forever, except a monster of a hand wrapped around his wrist and drew his arm soundlessly out of the curtain. He could _feel_ Smith growling as he dragged Renji quietly out of the hall to the back door.

Safe from Juro's -and Ishida's- ears, Smith slammed him hard into the alleyway wall. Some trashcans went clattering over, making a loud clamor. The sound made Renji wince more than the pressure of Smith's big hand on his throat.

"Like to watch people?" Smith asked dangerously.

He didn't. Voyeurism had never been his thing. He liked to participate or he didn't even want to know it was going on. But... Ishida? He still couldn't wrap his mind around it, couldn't reconcile the strong, dominant man with sweat running down his neck and no glasses, to the tired, bossy, irritable man he'd come to know. The man who hid behind his glasses and ran from Kurosaki.

_You're __the __one __who __said __he __could __be __a __'dom __worthy __of __Kenpachi.'_

_ I __didn't __think __he _knew _it! __That's...__it's __not..._

Smith gave him a hard shake. "You gotta problem with something?" The man's eyes were narrowed and Renji did a quick risk assessment. Knife in the waistband, another in the boot-top and a third embedded in the toe of his left boot.

None of them would be a problem, except..._Getting __another __gigai __would __suck __a __lot_, Renji growled to himself.

"No problem. I was just startled is all."

"Startled people _leave,_" Smith snarled.

"And people with a _problem_ don't?"

The big man glared at Renji hard, trying to make him cower or confess or plead. Renji glared back. Bigger and stronger men than Roland Smith had tried to intimidate him and failed.

"Ishida is my friend," Renji tried finally.

"Juro is not the kind of man you want to fuck with," Smith told him. His voice lowered to something that was almost conversational. "I can guarantee you _that_. Stay out of his way. You try to tell anyone about this... you'll find yourself dead and floating along the river."

Renji nodded slowly like he understood and was sufficiently cautious of winding up dead in the river. Smith released him all at once, but didn't back away, leaving Renji trapped between the damp wall and his body.

The back door swung up and they both looked over to see Juro stretching like a cat. Ishida was nowhere in sight, and Renji sent up a small _thank __you_ for that.

"No need to be such a bear, Sumisu-kun. Let the boy go." He held out an arm with a friendly look on his face and twitched his fingers in invitation. Smith stepped back so that he was blocking Renji's perceived escape route. Renji rolled his eyes – like he was really going to run anyways! From what? Sullen at being herded, Renji sulked back to the door and tried to suppress his shudder when Juro wrapped his arm around Renji's waist and drew him back into the shop.

"Let's have a talk," Juro suggested brightly. His body was loose and relaxed and he moved with even more lazy grace than normal. It made Renji react strangely to think of _why_ Juro was so relaxed and at ease. The man ushered him through the beaded curtain and Renji skirted around the desk. Avoiding the chair, he made for the sofa, but stopped and considered the worn cushions with a suspicious glare. If they'd done it over the desk, they'd probably done it more on couch...

Juro laughed behind him, a light, amused sound. "You don't have to sit down if you don't want to," he offered finally, settling himself on the desk with a pleased look.

Renji stayed on his feet. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at the tattooist with hot suspicion. "How did that happen?" he growled, lifting one hand to make a flicking gesture towards the desk and everything it implied. He noticed that the sketches had all been picked up and his eyes were drawn to a blue cross on the top of the pile.

"Well, dear, you see – when two men really love each other a lot-"

"Don't give me that bullshit!" _That __was __not __love. __It __wasn't!_

"Too old for the birds and the bees, hm?"  
>"You have no idea," Renji muttered without thought. He glared uselessly and Juro only smiled back at him, unphased by either Renji's physical presence or his attitude.<p>

Juro tipped his head slightly and looked away. His eyes clouded over a little and different kind of smile drifted across his lips. It was soft, almost gentle. "He is quite special, our Ishida-kun." Juro looked back up at him, eyes suddenly piercing. "I would do a lot to keep that man safe. Even more to make him happy."

Renji faltered, thrown a little off balance. "You do... love him?" It was supposed to be a statement, but it came off as a strangled, disbelieving question.

"Of course I do. I love all of my lovers." His eyes fairly twinkled. "Ishida is special to me. But don't worry, pretty Renji, I haven't staked a permanent claim on his heart. " A wink. "If you think you can take it, feel free to try. You have my blessing, if that's what you're worried about."

"I don't want his heart!" Renji's voice came out embarrassingly high-pitched. "He's... that's..._Ishida!_" That should have been enough of an explanation, even for him. But somehow it fell short. _I__don't_, he continued in an irritated inner argument.

_Trying __to __convince __me?_Zabimaru asked innocently.

"Just his body then?" Juro's voice intruded on Renji's argument with his zanpakuto and it took a half-second for him to catch up again.

"What? NO!" How did he lose control of this conversation so quickly? What was it about Juro that made him feel so... young? Like a naughty child caught with his hand in the cookie jar?

"I see." Juro's smile fell away and he became truly menacing. He slid off the desk like water and stalked towards Renji, forcing him back into a corner. "If you hurt that man, even unintentionally..." He let the threat drift off and then smiled brightly. "You're not the type to respond well to physical threats, are you, dear Renji? No, I don't guess so."

And yet Renji felt unbelievably threatened.

"Well, I'll let you go back to work now. Will you be coming back on Thursday or should I find a new apprentice?" Juro turned away from him and drifted back to his desk.

Strange, the idea of leaving hadn't even occurred to him. "I'll be back," he murmured.

"In that case, you can leave early today. I'm sure you have a lot to think about."

~I~I~

Ishida dropped backwards into the chair, dragging Juro with him. The man rested easily against Ishida's chest, a lazy smile on his face. Their breaths labored together. It was a little harder to catch his breath with Juro's weight on his chest, but he liked the closeness.

After a moment, Juro picked up Ishida's left arm, twisting it slowly beneath the light. Ishida turned his face away, hiding against Juro's neck. "I see the bruising is getting worse rather than better." The tattooist clicked his tongue in sympathy. "I don't suppose you're going to come clean on that _I-have__-a-condition_ lie, are you?"

"No."

"I wish you'd let me mark this beautiful skin somewhere else..."

"No. That's what I want."

Juro sighed and kissed Ishida's arm gently. "You're such a horrible tease, Uryuu."

The sound of his name on Juro's tongue made him blush, even with everything they'd done together.

"I don't mean to break the afterglow – you know I'm all for cuddling – but I thought I should let you know that your little friend did see us."

Ishida froze with his lips hovering over Juro's shoulder. He groaned. "It's Tuesday."

"Mmm, right you are, my smart little peacock."

Ishida felt sick to his stomach. "Oh... god..."

"I saw Sumisu dragging him out. I'm sure they're having a nice little chat in the alleyway about now."

Ishida didn't mention that there were about a hundred reasons why Renji would have no reason at all to fear Roland Smith. "Oh, god," he repeated, dropping his forehead to Juro's shoulder.

"Don't worry, pet. Get dressed and escape through the front. I'll have a chat with him myself. It will be quite alright. Though in the future, if you don't want your friends to see us fucking, you might not want to come over all geared for a fuck when they're in the next room."

Ishida blushed bright red, which Juro found endearing and so kissed his nose for it. Honestly, it hadn't occurred to Ishida that it was Tuesday and Renji would be working. He'd just been geared up so tightly and _wanted__it..._ Between Kurosaki, Urahara and Renji, he'd been strung like an overstretched harp string, ready to snap at the slightest pressure.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"Don't be sorry. I quite enjoy it when you're all...flustered." He smiled languidly and climbed off of Ishida's lap to collect his clothing. "You should probably not be here by the time I get Renji away from Sumisu's tender care."

Still red to his hairline, Ishida nodded dumbly and all but flew around the room getting dressed as soon as Juro disappeared through the curtained door.

_Stupid ,__stupid, __stupid! __I __was __stupid __to __get __him __this __job __in __the __first __place __and _stupid _to __come __here __on __a __Tuesday __and _stupid _for __not __thinking!_

He made it to the front door just as he heard the first faint murmurs of conversation from the back office. A horrible part of him wanted to creep back to the office and listen at the curtain; it was a masochistic desire to confirm with his own ears what he was already positive of. Renji would scorn him. He would be repulsed. He might even turn on him and tell the others.

With his hand frozen on the door handle, he swallowed hard. Renji's disgusted expression came swimming up to the surface, followed by Chad's face, cool with disdain. Inoue, he thought, would probably just be confused. She might even try to comfort him.

Strangely, it was Kurosaki's imagined outrage that finally sent Ishida hurdling through the door and running like hell itself was opening behind him.

_I'm __always __so __full __of __myself...__smart __Ishida, __who __can __run __laps __around __Kurosaki __in __the __classroom__ – __I'm __not __smart __at __all. __How __do __I __keep __getting __my self __into __stupid __situations __likes __this? __This __is __ridiculous!_

He slowed at the fervent request of his lungs. All of the lassitude that came from such a phenomenal coupling fled beneath Ishida's own anxiety. Juro was an amazingly attentive lover. He was versatile and accommodating and strangely willing to bend to Ishida's desires. The concept was so weird that Ishida remembered having difficulty with it at first. As much as he fought for it, as much as he pretended he was in complete control of himself, he wasn't used to be deferred to, to being in control of others.

His muscles bunched up as he considered his impossible predicament until his head began to pound and his shoulders ached faintly from the strain. He stopped and slowly backed into a lamppost. The chill on the metal soaked through his knit sweater and quickly numbed the right side of his spine. The sun was just barely visible, a bloody orange stain on the horizon, glimpsed between tree branches and buildings. He realized that he'd made it to the park outside of the school and groaned again.

There was no use delaying the inevitable. He should just go back and face the music. Maybe he could get everyone together and just announce it himself, before Renji had a chance to do it for him. He would feel better that way, more in control of the situation and less a victim.

_And __what __am __I __going __to __say __to __them?_ Ishida asked himself nastily. "_Hello, __everyone! __I __have __an __announcement __to __make!__I __know __you __all __think __I'm __an __unbearable __prude, __but __as __it __so __happens, __I'm __quite __adept __at __fucking __older __men __over __their __desks.__"_

The image was so ridiculous that he started giggling. It started out a low, shaking sound, barely audible, and swelled to a full-bodied laugh. He was conscious of other people, close enough to hear him and turn to look, far enough away that they probably couldn't recognize him.

_Like __anyone __would __believe __that __Ishida __Uryuu __is __standing __in __a __park, __laughing __like __a __damn __loon. __They'd __sooner __believe __that __I __was __an __evil __twin __from __the __Negaverse._

He kept giggling, though he did finally clamp a hand over his mouth and curl forward to conceal the sound.

"Mind lettin' me in on the joke?"

Ishida choked on his own shock and his laughter degenerated into a fit of coughing. The stranger pounded him helpfully on the back and Ishida shied away from him, leaning over to catch his breath. When he straightened up, the stranger was still standing there. Nearly a full head taller than Ishida, the guy was probably closer to Renji's size. He had a mess of wild blue hair and the sharp features of a Western European. Probably Russian or German.

Ishida coughed into a curled hand and straightened himself up. "My apologies," he offered lamely.

The guy shrugged. "Ain't nothin for bein sorry 'bout." His lips curled into a wide grin. His expression was almost feral and his pale blue hair seem to make him only more so. "I was just wonderin' what's so funny. I need a good laugh."

_Oh, __I __was __just __contemplating __telling __my __friends __that __I __like __to __have __sex __with __other __men __and __do __it __a __lot __more __frequently __than __they __would __probably __believe._.. Even caught in the trailing edge of his own hysteria, Ishida wasn't that far gone. He summoned up something like a normal expression, far too exhausted to even really be embarrassed. "It's a private joke."

"So I see." The man thrust a hand out. "Grim."

_Grim? __What __sort __of __name __is __that?_ His incredulity must have shown on his face because the guy grinned broader and gave Ishida's hand a vigorous shake.

"It's a nickname," he offered gruffly. "Full name is kinda... long." He actually winked and Ishida found himself unexpectedly charmed.

_Why __am __I __so __prone __to __being __attracted __to __brutes __and __gangsters? __And _now _of __all __times?_ he asked himself fleetingly. He finally remembered his manners and introduced himself. Grim rolled Ishida's name around his tongue like a foreign candy. He finally nodded and smiled widely. Something about his expression was a little unnerving, predatory. As roguishly charming as the man was, he made Ishida unaccountably nervous. On impulse, he glanced around to see how many people were still within eye and ear-shot. Not many.

"It was nice to meet you, Grim," Ishida ventured. "I need to go now. I have a test tomorrow."

"Sure. Nice to meet you too. Maybe next time you can tell me 'bout the joke."

It was more than a little forward to think there would be a next time. Ishida gave him a weak, polite smile. He was struggling for that sense of chilly disregard that used to come so easily and provide such an excellent shield. "Sure."

Without waiting for another response, he turned and hurried towards the campus. The sky was barely light, the shadows lengthening to swallow up the street. He resisted an urge to cast a glance over his shoulder to make sure the guy wasn't following him and took the most direct route to the front of the University.

By the time he made it to the dorm, the sky was completely dark and all the lights were on. He trudged up the stairs, unhurried. He didn't want to face Kurosaki. On a different night, he might have gone to Chad's room, just to soak up the man's comforting presence. But Chad's room was also Renji's room. At that moment, he wouldn't have risked running into Renji even if it meant fully-body contact with Kurosaki and his swirling reiatsu.

_I __seem __to __think __about __body __contact __a __lot __lately._ The thought almost sent him back into hysterics. Only the third floor door banging open saved him from sitting down in the stairwell and laughing himself silly.

_I __used __to __be __so __self-sufficient. __I __never __used __to __need __contact. __What __happened?_

What a disaster of a day. At least Kurosaki was gone when he made it back to the dorm room. Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, he crawled up to bed and fell immediately into an exhausted sleep.


	15. FOURTEEN

A/N: Sorry about the strange formatting with the italicized thoughts last chapter. That was not intentional, but something that FFdotNet does. I think I've gotten it taken care of. If it happens again and drives you too nuts, you can always go to my livejournal to read the story from there. The link is in my profile under "homepage."

-Thanks

FOURTEEN::

Ishida managed to avoid Renji for nearly a week by taking the long way to class, making unnecessary side-trips to classes he didn't even have, and doing his best to stay in a group of other people when he wasn't in a classroom. So by the time Renji finally cornered him in a crowded square at lunch time, the red head was sporting a scowl that should have made Ishida's heart explode on the spot.

"Come with me now, or I will throw you over my shoulder and drag you away," Renji warned, stopping a few feet away from him. He had his hands in his pockets, deceptively casual, looking more intimidating than usual in his white track suit.

Ishida contemplated the ultimatum; walk calmly into the wolf's den and wait quietly to be eaten, or go fighting tooth-and-nail and leave his dignity behind him like some kind of wake? Ishida sighed and nodded once, as Renji must have known he would. The taller man jerked his head slightly to a narrow path that wandered off into the snow covered trees.

_At __least __I'll __be __destroyed __in __relative __privacy,_ Ishida thought peevishly as they walked down the path. Renji remained silent until the school was completely hidden by the naked trees and Ishida was dancing with the cold.

"What the fuck, Ishida?"

Even though he was expecting it, the sudden explosion of Renji's temper startled Ishida a little bit. He took half a step backwards, and then, ridiculously, began to laugh. Renji glared at him with increasing impatience until Ishida was able to get a hold of himself.

"Do I really have to explain it to you? I would think someone like you would know what -"

"This isn't a joke! _Juro_? I can't wrap my head around this, Ishida! It's not like you-"

"How the hell do you know what is _like__me_?" Ishida snarled. He was exhausted – physically and emotionally. He felt drained and bitter and pathetic and helpless and the frustration was going to tear him apart piece-by-piece. "You don't know me at all."

"I know you better than you think."

"Enlighten me, Abarai-fukitaichou. What do you know about me?" Ishida spit the words like poison, immediately regretting following Renji away from civilization. He should have made the man carry him away. He should have made him work for it. He was tired of being on the receiving end of these inquests, like he somehow had to justify his existence to people like Renji.

"Your whole life has been out of your control, every step planned out for you from the beginning. The things you can control, you're obsessive over – and you think you mange it. Your emotions, your expressions, your personal space. You're not as good at it as you think. You're not reckless. _Juro_ is reckless. So make me understand, because I don't get it – what do you see in him?"

"Why does it matter?" Ishida asked, pleaded, honestly wanted to know. Why did guys like Renji Abarai and Ichigo Kurosaki think that it mattered? Who gave them the right to dissect him like some freak-show curiosity?

"Because you're my friend. And Juro – I like the guy, mostly. I think. But he's dangerous. Something about him just throws me off. And god, Ishida! You have to know he's a gang boss!"

Ishida winced. "I know."

"So what? Is that what it is? The danger thing?"

"I must have a sign over my head somewhere that says _broken_," Ishida muttered. "You think I'm some kind of adrenalin junkie? That I get off -" he couldn't help but blush, damnitall, "-on being in danger? Join the club. Kurosaki thinks I'm a drug addict and that I sell my body for pills."

Renji's brow furrowed but he snapped, "Don't change the subject!"

Ishida dropped down to a well-worn rock. Just a little too tall to serve comfortably as a bench, it was nonetheless flat and long and smooth from decades of use. He scrubbed a hand over his face. "I was getting desperate," he said without thinking about it.

"God, Ishida, you... I mean... there are other guys who-"

"Not for _that!_" Ishida hastened to cut him off, face so warm that he couldn't possibly blame the blush on being cold. "My powers are gone, Abarai. Gone." It felt strangely liberating to just announce it.

The answer was unexpected enough that Renji just sank down next to him and tried to puzzle it out. He made several false starts and finally said, "What?"

"I am no more a quincy than you are a... French poodle. I lost my powers during the _incident_ in Soul Society. I've been struggling every since to get them back. Unsuccessfully." _Unless __Kurosaki __has __his __tongue __down __my __throat-_ but that might confuse the situation, so Ishida kept it to himself. "I came to town as soon as I graduated. I was here the entire summer before school started. In some kind of fit of desperation-" Because it was the only word that could explain _that_ night "I tried to get my cross tattooed on my right arm. I thought it might help."

Ishida shifted uncomfortably, because he'd never confessed any of this to anyone, not even Urahara, who he'd once assaulted in equal degrees of desperation. "I found Juro's shop, and I showed him what I wanted, but as soon as he saw my arm, he refused to do the work."

Renji's brow furrowed. "Why?"

"If you're going to force me to be honest, at least do me the courtesy of not pretending that you haven't seen the bruises."

Renji had the grace to blush, because of course that made him think of Juro's long braid wrapped around that bruised arm and- _Stop!_ Renji commanded himself sternly.

"He was the first person I'd ever shown them to. And he was... kind." Ishida shrugged. "And it just... happened. And maybe I shouldn't have gone back, but... damnit, why not? Show me the rulebook that says I can't have a lover!" Ishida pinned Renji with a glare, daring him to do exactly that.

Renji held up both hands. "I'm not saying that you can't have a lover. But..." Renji nearly squirmed under Ishida's expectant glare, painfully aware that he was the one that insisted on this little heart-to-heart. "Ishida, I think I can count on one hand the number of days he's _not_ been back in that office having sex with _someone_. And I doubt that _someone_ is usually you."

Ishida shrugged, expertly hiding his wince. He looked away, studied the little pits in the rock. "We're not _boyfriends_, Abarai. He can do what he wants with whomever he pleases."

"And you're okay with that?"

"Do I look _not_ okay with it?" Ishida challenged. "It's not like I _am_ back there all the time-" damn that blush "Or anywhere else for that matter. Contrary to what seems to be popular belief, I don't spend my spare time doing drugs and having sex with random people in back alleys!" Ishida found himself far too angry – frustrated, out of control, _hurt_- to be really embarrassed by then, but Renji looked embarrassed enough for both of them.

"I don't think … that. Just... I don't know. Something about that guy really creeps me out. And I'm... _worried_ about you, okay?" Renji gave him a sour look for good measure.

"Don't be! It's not your _business!_" Ishida jumped to his feet, unable to keep all the pent up emotions under wraps any longer. He stood with his hands curled into fists, not sure if he wanted to just storm off (it worked with Kurosaki) or punch Renji in the gut (which also worked with Kurosaki).

"Then whose business is it?" Renji asked quietly.

"_NO__ONE'S!__"_

"Did you ever think that maybe you should let it be someone's business? That your friends would like it to be their business?"

Ishida felt unexpectedly blindsided. "What?"

"Maybe if you'd let someone in – anyone – you wouldn't have been struggling with this for the last two years on your own."

Ishida couldn't think of a single word to say in response and Renji finally sighed. "I'm not going to tell anyone anything, and I'm not going to try and tell you not to see him or something. Just be smart about it, Ishida. And tell me when you're going to be alone with him."

"...Why?"

"First of all – so I don't walk in on you! Because, really? I think I'm scarred for life." He pulled a face and Ishida managed a breathless laugh. "But also because I'm your my friend. And it's stupid to walk into a gang boss's bedroom without _someone_ knowing where you are."

Even with all the rage and helplessness and frustration, Ishida was strangely warmed by Renji's awkward sentiment. The whole scene seemed somehow _less_ than he expected. There was none of the spark and explosion of his exhausting interactions with Kurosaki, none of the strange charge of being with Kisuke. Somehow, it didn't seem so bad that someone knew – all of it, the lost powers, his secret affair with a yakuza boss, even the way he felt so out of control – and that _Renji_ was the one who knew fit surprisingly well. He tried to think of who else he could possibly share it with; Chad would be a bright red mess, so embarrassed that Ishida would probably die of sympathetic embarrassment; Inoue was so far out of the question that he couldn't even consider her reaction. Kurosaki? A recipe for an explosion (most likely a literal one) and the man would probably mange to turn it back around and make it his fault (though really, it basically _was_ his fault). For all that he trusted Urahara and was comfortable with him to an unexpected degree, he couldn't see himself explaining these kinds of things to the older man (_How __do __you __discuss __your __sex __life __with __someone __you __clumsily __failed __to __seduce?_). But Renji had taken the news surprisingly well, he hadn't spread any of the information around, and he was still willing to be there for Ishida, even after he knew.

_That's __always __been __the __issue, __hasn't __it?__I've __been __afraid __that __they __would __abandon __me __if __they __knew __how __useless __I __am._

Ishida summoned up a small smile and nodded. Renji finally stood and made a gesture to send them back towards civilization. Ishida felt... better. Still tired, still bruised and frustrated, but better.

"You know... I've never actually seen his bedroom," Ishida teased when they were nearly out of the shelter of the trees.

Renji covered his ears. "Just because I want to know _when_ doesn't mean I want to know _what_!"

~I~I~

Finished with his last final, Ichigo warned Kawagichi-sensei that he would be gone for awhile, but refused to give out his location or when he'd be back. Though the sensei glowered at him darkly, Ichigo had more important things on his mind than the upcoming judo tournament and he walked away without caving.

He considered leaving his body back in the dorm room, but he didn't know how long he was going to be gone and he was a little nervous that someone would find it there and take him to the hospital or something. More than that, he wasn't too thrilled at the idea of waking up stiff, weak and covered in bedsores.

The train to Karakura Town was filled with students. Ichigo glanced over them with little more than passing curiosity, wondering how many of them he knew from high school. One girl looked a little familiar, but he couldn't place her. She could have just as easily been in one of his college classes as an old classmate from high school. He shrugged it off, slumped into a comfortable sprawl and put his earbuds in. Though it was mostly to make himself unapproachable, he drifted away with the music and almost missed his stop because of it. He barely cleared the doors before they closed and ignored the few looks he got for it.

Hands in his pockets, music loud enough to drown out even his own thoughts, Ichigo walked the familiar streets aimlessly, trusting his feet to take him down the twists and turns he knew as if the roads had been etched into the soles of his feet and the backs of his hands.

Urahara might have been walking with him for more than a mile before he noticed. His eyes flicked up to the shopkeeper, who was hiding behind a pink and blue fan.

"Nice night for a walk," Urahara commented. Ichigo couldn't hear the words over the music, but he could read them on Urahara's lips, small motions just visible in the gap between his fan and his face. Ichigo jerked his head once and kept walking. Now more aware, he realized that Tessai was behind them with Ururu and Jinta. In the quiet spaces of the music, he heard their foot steps and the swish of plastic grocery bags like a counter-melody.

"School is out?" Urahara asked, timing his question with a lull in Ichigo's music.

Ichigo nodded again, shortly, not wanting to think about the school, or classes, or anything -_anyone_- on the campus. The music swelled back up, a crash of electric sounds and violins that made his eyes drift slowly closed. Walking with his eyes closed gave him the delirious feeling of floating, the music overwhelming the momentary panic at the loss of his sight. His hands left his pockets and turned outwards until it felt like the city itself guided him through turns and around holes.

Finally, he felt a hand on his shoulder and opened his eyes to the dirt yard in front of Urahara's shop. Tessai and Ururu and Jinta were gone, presumably inside, where the lights glowed in a way that tugged at his soul. Only Urahara remained, steady, his hand warm against Ichigo's shoulder.

"Teach me to control myself." _So __I __don't __hurt __him __any more_. It should have been a request, or at least a plea. It came out something like an order, a statement of fact, as if it was something Urahara had been standing there waiting for. As if it was something only Urahara could do. Maybe it was.

"Control is a fickle thing," Urahara whispered. His voice was different, softer, lacking the glossy covering.

"I know."

Urahara walked away, the sound of his clogs on the packed dirt echoing off the larger buildings around them. Ichigo followed, acutely aware of all the night noises with his music off.

~I~I~

Renji leaned against the door frame and waited. Even through all of Urahara's protections, he could still feel Ichigo's reiatsu prowling beneath the floorboards like a giant cat. He felt each stilted attempt to leash the beast and the ways the cat lashed out, snarling, all claws and teeth. That there was a leash at all after only a week was nothing short of astonishing. Renji's lips compressed slowly and cursed that there was a need for Ichigo, that he should have been burdened with this at all. It wasn't fair.

_It __never __is,_ Zabimaru reminded him.

"Will he be able to do it?" he asked, feeling Urahara's approach like a tingle at the back of his neck. The other man paused in the hallway and glanced at him sideways.

"Kurosaki Ichigo should not be able to do even a quarter of the things that he does."

"But can he do _this_?"

Urahara shrugged one shoulder. "Perhaps... perhaps not." His breath released in a sigh and Renji eyed him through the incomplete darkness. For a moment, the pillar he'd come to think of Urahara as faded away and the man looked... tired.

"We might need him after all."

"That's not smart."

"Maybe not," Urahara agreed. "But it seems to be necessary." Without another word, Urahara continued on and disappeared into his room.

Renji stayed in the doorway and let the feeling of Ichigo's wild reiatsu dance up and down his spine. The sun was washing the sky in muted shades of pink and gray when he finally left, and Ichigo was still in the basement, fighting to restrain his reiatsu.

_I'll __give __it __another __week..._ he thought, and knew that a week or a year or ten thousand of either would never be enough.

~I~I~

With finals over and a judo tournament looming on the horizon, Ishida expected Kurosaki to return at any moment. He felt an odd mixture of anxiousness and irritation over it.

_The __idiot __finally __does __me __a __favor __and __leaves, __and __I __spend __the __entire __time __wondering __where __he __is __and __worrying __about __when __he'll __come __back. __Typical __me._ Kurosaki was like a wound in his mouth; even though it would heal faster if he left it alone, he couldn't help jabbing his tongue into it just for the little spike of pain.

_Maybe __I __really __am __some __kind __of __danger/pain/humiliation __junky_, Ishida joked with himself, but the thought was uncomfortably flat, wandered a little too closely to the edge of the truth. So when Renji flopped into the chair next to him and announced that they were going to go see Urahara, Ishida only nodded, even knowing Kurosaki was there.

The train ride to Karakura Town passed in awkward limbo. It was clear to Ishida that Renji didn't know what to do with him. Ishida wasn't sure if he'd fallen short of Renji's expectations or exceeded them, or if Renji had formed expectations at all. Their association in Soul Society was brief and marred by the much larger conflict of Rukia's impending execution, and then of Aizen's betrayal and escape. It wasn't as if they'd had a lot of time to sit around and play 20 questions.

Their forced conversation drifted away all on its own half way to Karakura Town. That was fine. Despite everything, despite the strangeness and the little flutter of nervous embarrassment that still reached up to grab Ishida at regular intervuls, sitting with Renji and not talking was almost as comfortable as not-talking with Chad.

_Karakura __Town ,__last __stop, __Karakura __Town. __Please __exit __on __the __right. __Karakura __Town, __last __stop..._

Ishida tugged at Renji's sleeve and they joined the stream of people flowing down the center isle and out the doors. Something about his old hometown felt charged. He could feel it crackling in the air and dancing on his cheeks.

_Just __the __cold,_ he told himself, but he knew better. Ever since inadvertently joining Kurosaki's merry band of do-gooders, nothing could ever be dismissed with the simple explanation. He tried to ignore it, but the charged feeling worsened the closer they got to Urahara's shop until the ground beneath their feet trembled faintly with it. Renji kept casting sideways glances at him, but Ishida effected not to notice and forged ahead into the now-familiar sweets shop. Urahara was nowhere to be found and the rest of the house was curiously quiet.

"Well!" Renji hesitated, edging towards the trap door. "We should go see if Urahara is here, right?"

Ishida shrugged and briefly considered letting Renji off the hook and announcing that he knew Kurosaki was there – he could _feel_ the man a mile off, after all – but he only nodded and followed Renji through the trap door to the impossible basement beneath.

There was no one in sight and the basement didn't look like it had taken any more damage than usual. Kurosaki's reiatsu tinged the air, but it felt strange, muted somehow. Usually, Ishida already felt the first tingles of discomfort at this distance.

"You go... that way," Renji suggested, pointing at random. "I'll go this way. We'll find him between us!"

Ishida couldn't help himself any longer and laughed. "I know Kurosaki is down here," he admitted, still smiling. He patted the shinigami's shoulder to ease the man's inexplicably guilty look and took off, letting the tingle of Kurosaki's reiatsu lead him.

He found the shinigami sitting cross-legged on top of a bolder, so still that he could have been part of the rock. He was stripped to the waist and slick with sweat. It was strange, seeing him so still. He couldn't remember any time when Kurosaki had been both awake and still.

_Maybe __he's __asleep?_

Ishida approached cautiously, climbing up the side of the rock face that sloped more gently. All the same, he was panting by the time he made it over the edge and spilled onto the ground. _Maybe __I __should __get __back __in __shape __too..._ he groaned aloud, rolling his shoulders. He could already feel the burn of the muscles complaining.

He turned onto his back and found Kurosaki staring down at him. The man's expression was strange and Ishida hurried to his feet, backing away unconsciously. Kurosaki rose from the ground like an ancient beast, painfully slow, but obviously powerful.

"Renji and I just came to see if you were coming back to class," Ishida lied quickly, still backing away. No mention had been made of class or Kurosaki, but Ishida didn't like the way the shinigami was looking at him.

"I can... I can see you...like this," Kurosaki whispered. His voice was a dry rasp and Ishida got the impression that the whispering wasn't voluntary.

Ishida laughed nervously. "Of course you can see me, baka!"

Kurosaki's shuffling paces were getting closer and Ishida was running out of room on the narrow outcropping. _I__think__he__really__is__asleep!_ Certainly his expression was... weird. His eyes were foggy and the set of his mouth was a odd mixture of pain and determination.

Ishida glanced down over the edge, hoping to see a lower ledge to jump to, but there was nothing between him and the ground. He planted his feet and clapped his hands sharply, trying to wake Kurosaki out of his daze. Undisturbed, the man continued, swaying slightly on his feet. The rock was too narrow for him to try and dart around Kurosaki and get back to the path he'd taken up, so he stood still and breathed slowly and steeled himself for whatever Kurosaki would do.

Kurosaki came to an uncertain halt in front of him. The air between their bodies vibrated faintly. Rather than turning him away, the feeling strangely begged Ishida to close the distance. Before he could analyze it, Kurosaki lunged, both arms wide.

He was anticipating the pain so acutely that his entire body convulsed when Kurosaki's arms closed around him. It took him several painful heartbeats to realize that Kurosaki was..._hugging_ him. And it didn't hurt at all. Kurosaki's legs gave out then and he slid down Ishida's body without letting him go. Still shocked, Ishida followed him down and let Kurosaki's head rest in his lap. He stared down at the man without comprehension. He remembered the way Kurosaki looked in sleep, the way his face relaxed and made him seem so young. Restless, Kurosaki's face remained tight and drawn, even in the depths of unconsciousness.

Ishida reached out hesitantly and brushed his hair away from his face.

_What __have __you __done __to __yourself __now...?_


	16. FIFTEEN

FIFTEEN::

"Well," Urahara mused out loud for Renji's benefit. "That solves one problem and rather creates another, doesn't it?" He looked sideways at the shinigami lieutenant, who only sighed and jumped off their lofty perch to collect Ichigo's unconscious body. Kisuke followed a moment later, though he made no move to help Renji, instead trailing after him with a soundless gesture for Ishida to come along. The poor boy looked confused and conflicted and any number of other things that Kisuke wasn't willing to look at closely enough to identify.

He arranged himself at the table in front of a pot of fresh tea. Tessai was wisely staying out of the way, but he appreciated the man sneaking out to leave the tea and biscuits. The idea of the giant kidou master sneaking around with tea and biscuits still made him smile. Ishida hesitated near the table, his eyes following the hallway around the corner where Renji had disappeared with Ichigo slung over his shoulder.

"Tea, Ishida-kun?"

Kisuke's voice seemed to startle the man out of his hesitation and he sat quickly, a fine blush rising to his cheeks. Kisuke felt an insane urge to reach across the table and brush his fingers over the color, as if he could smooth it away or tease it to a brighter shade. He curled his hand around the teapot and poured Ishida a cup to stop himself. Despite their playful banter, nothing about Uryuu Ishida was his to touch. It was tempting – he was experienced enough that the seduction would be easy. He could even make Ishida think it was his idea. He could make the boy fall in love with him.

_Damn whoever taught me that thing about responsibility. Again._

"Kurosaki-kun has come a long way," he said, forcing his tongue to form those safe words, to stay in that safe zone, not to use the name Ishida had so blithely granted him.

"Yes... I'm shocked, frankly."

Kisuke looked at him for a while and Ishida hid behind his tea cup. His elegant fingers tightened on the ceramic until his fingernails turned white with the pressure.

"What do you know about the way reiatsu is generated in a shinigami?" Kisuke made his voice to be steady, almost condescending. He forced himself to sound like a professor so Ishida would treat him that way.

It worked immediately and Kisuke felt a strange pang of loneliness when Ishida put his cup down and turned to give him the serious regard of a student looking up to a teacher, waiting for him to impart knowledge. Kisuke flipped his fan out and used it to shield his face while he got his errant thoughts under control.

_I'm too old for this kind of thing,_ he reminded himself.

_You're still a man. It's been a while,_ Benihime's soft voice reminded him.

He ignored her.

"Nothing, really," Ishida prompted after a moment.

Kisuke looked over at him casually, as if he hadn't been caught drifting off. He snapped his fan shut and grabbed an empty teacup.

"All shinigami have a cup, if you will-" he picked up the teapot, "And that cup holds a finite amount of reiatsu..." while he spoke, he let the tea drizzle slowly into the cup. It was an exercise in control and patience to keep the flow small and even, a lesson he'd struggled at under his own sensei's critical eye. "Once the cup is full," he continued, trying to banish the memories of that long ago place and the battered tea cup, "The flow stops. The cup can hold no more." He gently tipped the pot back, leaving a perfect dome of liquid hovering just at the boundary of collapse. One more drop and the liquid would expand beyond its threshold and spill over the side.

"All of us have that stop mechanism." He set the pot down and watched the tea tremble with the tiny disturbances of the world around it. "All of us, that is, except Kurosaki Ichigo." He picked up the pot again and poured out a thick stream of the pale green tea. It overran the sides of the cup and spilled into the saucer and then over it to leave small lakes on the wooden table. He got a childish sort of pleasure from doing it on purpose, imagining his teacher's look of disapproval.

"So you just taught him this... stop mechanism?"

Shaken out of his reverie again, he set the pot down once more and smiled. "You can't be taught a stop mechanism. It's just there. It would be like... teaching someone how to breathe. Ichigo simply doesn't have one. His cup, too, is far larger than the average shinigami's. Maybe... one or two hundred times the size."

Ishida couldn't seem to help gaping and Urahara smiled at that too. It was far more impressive than Ishida could possibly imagine, having no method of comparison.

"Ichigo's greatest strength and biggest problem is that he keeps generating reiatsu well after his cup is full. With nowhere else to go, it just flows out all over the place, looking for outlets and new cups. But unlike a quincy, shinigami can't just soak up whatever reiatsu is out there. Every shinigami has a very unique signature and all of their reiatsu has to go through a filter before they can pour it into their cup and use it."

"For example, even if I trained for a thousand years, I would never be able to produce one ounce of reiatsu above what my cup could hold. I might be able to train myself to cycle well, so that what I use is instantly replaced, giving the _illusion_ of a never-ending font, but in the end, I am limited by own my capacity."

Kisuke rested his chin in his hand and watched the droplets of tea slide down the rough side of the teacup. "So I couldn't just grab up Ichigo's excess reiatsu willy-nilly and use it myself, anymore than I could pick up this spilled tea and put it back in the pot."

Ishida nodded slowly, his eyes focusing intently on the spilled tea.

Kisuke cleared his throat. "What you and I were doing that weekend-" he ignored the way Ishida blushed and furiously tamped down the almost-overpowering urge to smile or wink or make some silly, suggestive comment. "We were attempting to work in tandem." He was proud of how steady his voice was. "It's hardly done anymore, but in my time-" _when I was young and foolish and could have had an entirely different conversation with you_ - "it was, while not common, at least not _uncommon_."

"The practice was generally between a shinigami who had a big cup, but didn't produce a lot of reiatsu to fill it, and a shinigami who was able to fill their cup completely and quickly. Through years of training and practice, the one who produces more reiatsu could release some of it to the other- his anchor. The anchor would turn into a kind of... back up generator for his partner, holding onto the extra reiatsu. In this way, the anchor had a bigger pool to draw on in battle, and his partner had a reserve if he ran himself out. Over those years of practice, their signatures would merge until they were compatible, allowing for this back and forth."

_You could be my anchor._ It wasn't a smart thing to say, but Kisuke barely stopped the words from tripping off his tongue and spilling out into the world to wreak all kinds of a havoc. He cleared his throat and took a drink to hide his lapse.

"So... we just need to find Kurosaki an anchor?" Ishida asked. He already had his thinking look on, doubtlessly scrolling through a list of the people they knew that might be able to help. "Could you do that?"

"No, I'm afraid not. Renji may be able to..."

"Really? Those two are at each other's throats a lot, but they work together well in a fight..."

Urahara nodded. "They do. Given another decade or so, they would make a very strong pair."

"A _decade?_"

Kisuke shrugged. "Learning to work in tandem is difficult."

"Is there anyone else?"

_Ah, my friend, you've tripped the trap._ He found himself fervently wishing that Ishida hadn't asked at all, that this conversation could just be wiped away. _But the needs of the many, as they say..._

"Quincy are opposite of shinigami in generating reiatsu – a shinigami produces it from within themselves, from the product of their soul. A quincy pulls raw reishi out of the environment and converts it to useable reiatsu. It's a slower process, but you don't have to worry about pesky things like cups," he said instead, giving himself time to mourn and Ishida a chance to draw his own conclusions. "That glove of yours, the one you wore into Soul Society... it worked for you a lot like an anchor would work for a shinigami. Through it, you were able to convert reishi into reiatsu faster and the glove held the excess for you. Unfortunately, it also made you dependent on it as a filter. Without it, you are unable to make that conversion."

Ishida's jaw tightened and his hands clenched his teacup so tightly that Urahara briefly feared it would break.

"Your powers aren't lost, you just don't have the energy to feed them," Kisuke concluded.

"What does _that_ have to do with Kurosaki?" Ishida asked tightly.

"Your energy pool - your channels, your reserves, all of it – are achingly empty. Kurosaki exudes reiatsu – unmarked reiatsu, pure enough that you don't have to convert it, don't have to filter it. When you get close to him, his reiatsu drifts to you as an outlet... and your channels draw it in like starving plants set in water. The pain comes from taking in too much at once."

"You're saying that this is _my _fault?" Ishida slammed a fist into the table in a rare display of temper and Kisuke made himself smile and wave his hand in that flighty dismissive way that served him so well.

"It's not anyone's _fault_. Saying it's your fault would be like blaming a river for flooding its banks. No, it's not an issue of fault... but both of your problems may have the same solution."

Blood drained out of Ishida's face and his mouth dropped open as he abruptly realized what Kisuke was leading him to. "You want _me_ to be his... his 'anchor'?"

"You already are his anchor... you've always been his anchor," Kisuke said quietly. He forced a bright smile. "We just have to teach you both to be gentle with each other."

"But... he's fine now! It didn't hurt at all when he touched me!"

"Yes, that was very remarkable, wasn't it?" _And you'll never have any idea how remarkable. _"But what he's doing now is damning up the Nile without ever opening the flood gates."

"So... he'll break eventually."

_Sooner than you think. _"Oh, yes. And what a spectacular break it will be!" _I wonder if any of us would survive it. _

Ishida's shoulders slumped and he nodded miserably. "What do we have to do?"

And just like that, the trap door swung shut and Kisuke pulled all his masks and protections back up so he could smile.

~I~I~

Seated in the hallway with his back pressed against the wall, Renji listened quietly to the discussion. He covered his face with one hand, pressing his fingers hard into his temples. They never told him how difficult this was going to be.

_I forget sometimes... how young they are..._

What they were setting these... _children_ up for wasn't just unfair. It bordered on criminal. Two years had passed since Aizen left Soul Society in shambles and rather than repairing the gaps left by Aizen's betrayal, The Powers That Be spent their time concocting ways to turn innocents into bait.

_After all these two did for us, this is the kind of gratitude we show?_

Even Urahara was being made to play a part. Renji suspected the man knew what was going on. Urahara probably knew more than Renji did himself. It wasn't like they told him much.

_I just have to watch them closer. Somehow._

~I~I~

"I've barely got control of it and now you want me to just let it go?" Ichigo's body thrummed in time with the pulse of his reiatsu, maddeningly slow and heavy. For the first time since taking Rukia's powers, he could _feel_ other sources of reiatsu. Though it had taken him a moment, he realized that the feeling was exactly the same as those Wholes that used to follow him around before Rukia's sword went through his gut and pushed Zangetsu out. It was annoyingly anticlimactic to realize that his own reiatsu just started making too much background noise and drowned out what had always been there.

"Tch. Not _just _let it go, Kurosaki-kun." Urahara was at his faux sweet best, full of batting eyelashes and Cheshire-cat grins. "Slowly let it go so that Ishida-kun can grab it!" He illustrated his words with a snap of his fan and another large smile.

Ichigo glared. When the lid finally closed on his reiatsu, he'd felt a single moment of relieved joy. Beyond that, his mood was getting steadily worse. The caged spiritual pressure felt like a series of avalanches building up in his chest, like water filling a balloon too fast. He felt like he wanted to climb out of his own skin. Sometimes he caught his fingernails on his forearm and had to stop himself from tearing into the flesh and muscle there.

And to be told to let it go? He wanted to grab Ishida and shake him, to scream _I did this for you!_ But there were a thousand reasons why that was a bad idea and Ichigo was still swayed by about half a dozen of them.

"I don't like it any more than you do, Kurosaki," Ishida snarled just for effect. His lips pursed up like he had a slice of lemon surgically attached to his tongue. "But you can't walk around like _this_, and I can't be around you when you're just pouring reiatsu all over the place!"

"So don't be around me!" Ichigo growled. "You've gotten pretty god-damned good at that!"

"I'm not the only one you're affecting!" Ishida screamed back.

They went around in circles, the same well-worn path they had been treading for the better part of the morning. Urahara sighed and returned to his rock to wait it out. Renji was taking a nap in the shade of the boulder, one arm thrown over his eyes and the other tucked under his head.

"How long do you think they'll continue this?" Renji mumbled, his voice just barely loud enough to suggest he wasn't talking in his sleep.

"They _are_ stubborn…" Urahara replied dubiously. Most of the time their stubbornness was an asset, particularly in Ichigo's case as it made up for whatever deficiencies came with his youth and inexperience. Though how they were going to be able to work together was another matter entirely.

"You should have just told me from the beginning, Ishida!" Ichigo thundered abruptly, leaving Ishida in smoldering silence. "You should have just told me, and I would have fixed it." His lips drew in to a tight line and his eyes narrowed to a sullen pout, but his gaze remained hazy, reflecting the ways he hurt.

"Maybe you should have just noticed," Ishida suggested obtusely. His shoulders came up and his spine stiffened into the defensive pose that Urahara recognized instantly from Ishida's stilted request for help.

"How could I know any of this if you don't _say_ anything? Even when I asked you what was wrong, you just brushed me off! I wanted to help."

Ichigo turned his back abruptly and Urahara and Renji watched the scene unfold like some daytime melodrama. Silence fell between the two younger men, Ishida nearly boiling over with frustrated rage and Ichigo slowly becoming... less. As if he was shrinking in on himself, he seemed to take up less space, command less attention.

Watching with his sharp eyes, Urahara tipped his head and whistled lowly. "Interesting."

"Huh? What is?" Renji followed Urahara's focused gaze and looked at Ichigo intently, but could see nothing more than a sulking eighteen year old human who had too much reiatsu and not enough control. "What's so interesting?"

Fake smile blossoming like a tulip at dawn, Urahara flicked his fan open and waved it very determinedly to create a breeze. "Nothing, nothing." If he noticed Renji's dark glare, he didn't act like it.

~I~I~

Ichigo felt... cold. He remembered Renji sitting next to him on the track bench, shivering slightly in the chilly air and quirked a smile. He couldn't remember really being cold since the night he took Rukia's powers. What else had he not-noticed? What other sensations had slipped past him?

When Urahara, Renji, and Ishida all cornered him with the stupid 'anchor' idea, Ichigo balked immediately, not considering it for a moment. They mistook his immediate refusal as righteous indignation – and why not? It had taken him two painful weeks to get his arms around his reiatsu. In those last days he remembered the feverish illusion of his spiritual pressure as a giant beast, a massive scaled dragon with a tiger's face that wrapped around him in tight coils. The beast was protector and captor, weapon and shield. Fighting to restrain the monster was as physically painful as his first shattering battle with Kenpachi. After all that work, he deserved to hold onto it for a while.

_I'm damned either way – with my reiatsu loose, I'm a danger. With it caged, I'm useless. _He made a bitter sound, still aware of Ishida standing behind him. Now that the beast was out of the way, Ichigo could feel Ishida like a hot poker in his side. There was something about him that wanted to drag Ichigo in, some kind of pull that threatened to suck out his soul and trap him there. What frightened him most was that he wasn't frightened: he _wanted_ to fall into Ishida, into that welcoming darkness and just sleep.

_I don't want to hurt you_. He couldn't say it, couldn't unstick the words from his throat, it was the real reason behind his unwillingness to let his reiatsu go. The beast still prowled around beneath his skin, waiting for the smallest chink to burst out and consume. Ichigo wouldn't let Ishida be consumed.

The hand on his arm made him flinch. Ichigo spun immediately, breaking Ishida's grip with a hiss. His skin burned at Ishida's touch even through the layers of Ichigo's uniform; it pulled tight there and bruised immediately, the blood rushing into the area as if it meant to escape his body altogether.

"We don't have to be miserable, Kurosaki." Even though his eyes flashed with that familiar annoyed disdain, Ishida's voice was soft. He completely spoiled the effect by adding, "If you would just cooperate! You've spent the whole semester whining that you want to help! Well, here's your chance!"

"You don't know what you're asking me," Ichigo breathed. Saying it out loud made something in him break, something tiny and fragile. He felt a giddy kind of madness pooling in his stomach, and a shiver of victorious laughter danced up his spine.

Ishida reached out again to take his arm, this time gripping tightly. The world drained of color, and Ichigo saw everything in an amber monotone. The smile that split his face made his lips crack and bleed. His head, suddenly heavy, dropped forward until his chin touched his chest.

"You guys... you guys gripe too much. Like little birds."

It wasn't his voice, but he _felt_ the words on his throat. Ishida gasped and took half a step back, but Ichigo's hand reached up without his permission and clutched Ishida's wrist.

"Want me that much?" He looked up and saw the shock and anger and...fear in Ishida's eyes. Horror built inside of Ichigo, but he couldn't control his voice or his body. He watched Ishida's fear and shock and anger, helpless and speechless inside his own head. "How can I say no?"

Ishida tried to back away, but Ichigo – no, the thing that produced that frighteningly discordant voice from Ichigo's throat – held him fast.

"I'm tired," the hollow said. His expression became vicious in a way Ichigo's never could be. "I'm tired of you guys making it rain."

The hollow reached out with his free hand. The muscles of Ichigo's arm strained and quivered. A sourceless explosion thundered through the artificial environment of Urahara's cavern. Ishida struggled to breathe around the pressure. He dropped to one knee, his arm still clutched painfully in the hollow's grip. His shoulder burned from the awkward angle and he tried again to twist away.

Blue light flared around him and made him wince and shield his eyes. Spots danced in front of his gaze and the lights streaked across his glasses and obscured his vision.

_Spirit ribbons..._ he realized a moment later. He strained to look up at the hollow and shivered at the expression on Ichigo's familiar face, the mad grin and wild eyes that were anything but familiar. "What are you doing?" Ishida gasped, panting for breath. Ichigo's spirit ribbons mingled with his own, pale pink and sluggish with suppressed reiatsu.

"Just what you asked, Ishida-kun."

~I~I~

It took Urahara's exhausted brain a moment to recognize the shift in Ichigo's behavior. Ishida dropped to one knee and Urahara climbed to his feet. He'd been expecting this for months. As was his policy with Ichigo, he stayed back and let the boy handle it, watched to see how he would handle it. His hand settled on Benihime's hilt and he waited, watching each flicker of movement with intent attention.

"What the hell's going on now?" Renji demanded. His lips pulled down into a deep frown and he jumped up from the ground to stand at Urahara's side. His hand wrapped around Zabimaru's hilt and he thumbed the blade out of the scabbard. Urahara felt Zabimaru's wild energy the moment Renji released it, and gave Benihime a gentle tug to break the seal. Her red energy flooded around them and wrapped around Zabimaru like a mist. The two zanpakutou, old friends and comfortable comrades, greeted each other briefly.

"This could be unfortunate. Perhaps." Urahara adjusted his stance and watched the scene with wary readiness.

"Perhaps?"

Urahara shrugged and sighed, feeling every one of his many years. "It's always hard to tell with Kurosaki Ichigo if something is very unfortunate or not-" He cut himself off mid-sentence as the pressure in the cavern increased with all the force of a concrete building dropping on his shoulders. There was no mistaking that the hollow was firmly in control: Ichigo didn't have the ability to hold his reiatsu that way. Urahara took a step forward with considerable effort. Next to him, Renji grunted and stomped forward a few steps, struggling under the enormous pressure.

"Too late," Urahara mourned as dozens of spirit ribbons became suddenly, blindingly visible, drawn into the visible spectrum by the force of Ichigo's hollow-controlled reiatsu.

"Just what you asked, Ishida-kun," the hollow purred in answer to a question from Ishida. Urahara realized what he intended to do a moment before the hollow grasped one of Ichigo's suppressed spirit ribbons and then released Ishida's arm to snag one of the quincy's weak blue ones.

Ishida screamed, a high-pitched, tearing sound that made Urahara's stomach drop out. Without time to think, he grabbed the first ribbon in reach and released his reiatsu to combat the pressure of Ichigo's overwhelming power. Benihime wrapped around him and he shot forward, spirit ribbon in one hand and the other stretched out for the space between Ishida and the hollow.

The hollow saw Urahara coming out of the corner of one eye. He smirked down at the screaming quincy and, with a wink for the shopkeeper, smashed the two ribbons in his hands – one blue, one red- together between his palms. The resulting explosion tore out large sections of the ground and sent them hurtling. Ishida's panicked scream jumped up two dizzying octaves and he dropped to his side, arms curling around his head, fingernails digging into his scalp.

Urahara reached the two just as the hollow released his prize. Within a single heartbeat, Urahara snatched the joint spirit ribbons and smashed the one he held into the mix just before they knitted closed. The hollow snarled at him, but his roar of rage quickly turned to a shriek of pain that sent him to his knees. Behind Urahara, Renji's voice joined in the deafening chorus.

The ribbons knitted together – two red, one blue – forming a tight knot that could not be undone. Ichigo's trapped reiatsu roared out with a terrifying boom. It funneled down the bound ribbon and into the knot. The two attached ribbons glowed a painfully bright gold as the reiatsu thundered down them. The majority slammed into Ishida and funneled out into his spirit ribbons, making them all glow that same unbelievable gold, but a smaller torrent shot through the third ribbon, right back to the screaming Renji. Urahara may have apologized, but a third explosion lifted him off of his feet and sent him flying backwards. He smashed into a cliff, and then all was silent and dark.


	17. SIXTEEN

SIXTEEN::

Urahara woke to bobbing. He blinked his eyes open slowly and waited for his vision to clear. The first thing he noticed was his missing hat. Only when he reached up to feel the top of his head did he realize that he was slung over a familiar broad shoulder, staring down at Tessai's back as he climbed up the steep ladder. Urahara relaxed and stayed still and loose while Tessai climbed. Once they reached the top of the ladder, he twisted painfully upwards to grab the edge of the opening and pulled himself through on shaking arms.

"Abarai, Ichigo, and Ishida are sleeping in the guest room," Tessai announced as he pulled himself through the opening with the ease of a swimmer climbing up from a pool. Dragging four unconscious men up the ladder hadn't fazed him in the slightest.

Urahara remained on his back, his legs still dangling through the opening. His shoes were gone, and his greatcoat smelled of smoke and ozone. "What happened after I went under?" he asked through a parched throat.

Without being asked, Tessai took a glass of water off the table and helped him sit up to drink. "Ichigo regained control from the hollow before any more damage could be done. They've all been sleeping since – I put them close together, just in case."

"Good." Urahara rested against Tessai's broad chest and listened to his heart beat. He fought to keep his eyes open, but he was tired – had been tired for days, months… decades. The amount of reiatsu he'd expended to fight off the pressure of Ichigo's overwhelming power had drained him.

"You need to rest, Kisuke," Tessai announced, reading his mind.

There was so much to do, and Urahara felt uneasy about the other men waking up before him. "I do," he agreed reluctantly. "But I want to be woken the moment any of them seem to be waking."

Tessai nodded, set the empty water glass on the table, and picked Urahara up as if he weighed no more than a child. Urahara drifted back to sleep before they even made it to the hallway.

~I~I~

Something heavy held him down. Renji struggled to open his eyes and found it ponderously difficult. He growled in irritation – if that Ikakku had taped his eyelashes to his cheeks again-! A tremor ran through his body and his muscles jumped in response, cutting his silent cursing short. He _ached_: every muscle, every bone, every inch of his skin felt heavy and bruised. Another tremor built low in his spine and crawled slowly upwards to lodge at the base of his skull, each muscle twisting and convulsing as it climbed.

_What the hell is that?_

A third tremor, faster, sharper, made his right leg seize in agonized protest. Renji bit off a shout and forced his uncooperative eyelids open. He lay on his side with a spiked mess of strawberry hair obscuring his vision.

"Kurosaki?" he croaked, irritated. The man didn't as much as stir. Ichigo had his back to Renji's chest and he was curled over, cradling something. Foggy-headed and growing more irritated by the minute, Renji pushed himself up on shaking arms and peered over Ichigo's shoulder. Ishida nestled against him, face buried against Ichigo's neck and arms wound about his waist.

"…The hell?" How drunk did they get, anyways-? Memory struck him like a hammer to the back of the skull. Convincing Ichigo to take Ishida as an anchor, watching them fight, Ichigo's strange behavior… Urahara running ahead of him- Pain. Gold tinted pain.

Suspicion tickled at the back of his neck. With an effort of will greater than any he'd needed for more than a thousand years, Renji concentrated on his own energy and pushed his sight until a mess of glowing spirit ribbons manifested in the visible spectrum. Ishida glowed blinding gold, Ichigo's spirit ribbons were so saturated with reiatsu that they were less red and more black. And Renji's own spirit ribbons tinged gold at the edges, as if on fire. He sorted through them, searching for the foreign reiatsu making his muscles jump and his body feel heavy.

A thick knot, black-red and crimson and gold, tied him to Ishida and Ichigo both.

"Urahara," he snarled, spiting the man's name like a curse. How dare he tie Renji to another Soul Reaper without his permission? Cursing with effort, he got to his hands and knees and crawled for the door, made angrier by the ticklish feeling of longing, the almost hungry feeling urging him to return to Ichigo's side and immerse himself in the warmth of that damnable knot.

"I'll kill you," he snarled through clenched teeth and forced himself onward.

~I~I~

Urahara barely got himself upright at the table before Renji crashed into the tiny dinning area. He landed in a sprawl beside the table, making the ceramic cups jump.

"You!" he snarled, his voice muffled by the tatami. The redhead turned his face to Urahara and glared weakly at him. "How dare you!"

Exhausted, Urahara couldn't even summon up a smile. "I know," he said instead of apologizing. There was no kind of apology that could fix what he'd done to Renji.

"Why?"

Urahara sighed. "There wasn't time. The hollow would have turned Ishida into a living bomb… the backlash would have killed us all, and probably wiped Karakura town off the map…" He ran his hand through his hair. It was sticky with dried sweat, oil, and dust. "I just grabbed the first ribbon I saw and… reacted."

It wasn't completely true – he'd grabbed the first ribbon of _Renji's _that he'd seen. Renji had remarkable capacity that he couldn't possibly fill, and Urahara simply didn't have the excess room to be useful. Centuries of careful training and painstaking control kept him constantly at a maximum. Even with the mass release of reiatsu he'd need to combat the press of the hollow's spiritual pressure, he wouldn't have had the available capacity to hold Ichigo's startling reiatsu. There were other reasons, even less noble. He bowed his head, and maybe it was cowardly, but he couldn't admit this peculiar failing to Renji.

Renji was quiet for a minute while he examined the tired former-captain. It was strange to see Urahara without his hat and greatcoat. The man was deathly pale, his lips were bloodless, and his eyes were surrounded by heavy black bags. "Shoulda used your own," he grumbled finally. Another shock wave of errant reiatsu made him wince and clench his teeth. He balled both hands into fists and let the wave pass through his body, enduring the spasm of his muscles and the flickers of pain left in their wake in silence.

As tired as he was, Urahara adjusted his sight until he could see Renji's spirit ribbons. Some of the ribbons were completely saturated, others were barely tinged with gold, and still others were stubbornly crimson. "You need to regulate and filter the excess reiatsu," he said tiredly.

"I know!" Renji snapped. Ichigo's reiatsu was a thousand little needles climbing over his body, sometimes grazing his skin almost playfully, sometimes stabbing straight through and emerging on the other side. He'd worked in tandem briefly with Ikakku when he was training his bankai. From the experience he knew that he had a large capacity that he never completely reached – even with access to Ikakku's massive pool of reiatsu, he hadn't come close. But Ichigo flooded every little corner, filled each space up until it was hard to breathe beneath the weight of it. His filter couldn't keep up with the influx of foreign reiatsu. So much unfamiliar reiatsu should have killed him as surely as a bad blood infusion.

"Why I am I still alive with all this inside me?" he asked aloud, though did not expect an answer. He was therefore surprised when Urahara managed a small laugh.

"Ichigo's reiatsu is pure – he has no filter and therefore no signature for you to strip and change."

Renji felt a little spark of interest and surprise, but disregarded it and instead reached out to his zanpakutou. Zabimaru came cautiously out of hiding and together they redirected the flow of wild reiatsu so it funneled first through his core and then out through the filters that protected his soul. The volume was staggering – it would take days, maybe weeks, to sort through what was already running amok in his soul and even it out to something he could use.

"I'm still going to kill you," he muttered to Urahara as unconsciousness again pulled him under and the world faded gradually to black.

~I~I~

There was change in the sideways-upside-down world of Ichigo's core. The hollow perched at the edge of a building and watched the change with a grin. Zangetsu stood next to him, towering and implacable as always. The chain that connected them was delicate, almost attractive – no bigger than a jewelery chain. The hollow could break it if he wanted to, but why bother? He'd do it later.

"Things'r gonna get interesting," he said in a low tone.

Zangetsu didn't turn to look at him, but nodded slowly, a gentle bobbing of his head like a rubber duck in the bathtub.

The sky was fuzzy, salt and pepper static that flickered and flashed with neon colored lightening, but there was no rain. Vines crept over the buildings, some thicker than the hollow's entire body, others barely larger than an an infant's finger.

"Damn getaboshi interfering..." he said, looking over those vines as they explored and made their marks – Renji's influence on this place of stark geometrical lines. The hollow's lips jerked upwards in a smile and he dropped back onto one of the windows to watch the static flicker in the sky. "Prolly thinks he ruined everything, that know it all..." The smile stretched into a full grin and that into a ringing laugh. "Thanks, getaboshi! Now I've got two of 'em. So kind!"

His eyes slid over the static and wisps of flickering clouds. His gaze rested on two doors facing directly down, one crimson and one blue. The blue door stood completely open, only the ornate blue and white frame still visible – thick clouds, rife with electric flashes of red and crackles of black and gold, rushed through that door. The door next to it was nearly closed, only a hand's width crack letting the same clouds through. He wondered what their places would look like – Ishida's and Renji's. How much fun could he have there, exploring new skies?

"You guys are gonna help me take the reins," he told the doors and laughed again while Ichigo's wild power rushed through. When he was ready, he'd open those the doors the other way and he'd take all that power back. He'd buck Ichigo off his back and he'd wear the crown.

In the meantime, he basked in the warmth of the blinding blue sun and enjoyed the peculiar feeling of Ichigo's body wrapped around another warm human. It was nice – he'd never felt that before. And the more closely Ichigo connected with Ishida and Renji, the more easily the hollow could take back all that stored energy and use it to gain his freedom.

"Three little kings all sitting in a row," the hollow singsonged, "Which one's crown will be the first to go?"

Zangetsu watched him, silent. The hollow laughed and thunder rippled through Ichigo's inner place, gathering momentum.

"I'm gonna eat ya all up, King!"

~I~I~

The sun cast the room in sunlight and deep shadows when Renji woke again an indeterminate length of time later. He was once again tangled around another body, but understanding came quickly and he lifted his head to survey his sleeping partners. Ichigo lay on his back, one arm and one leg sprawled wide. The other arm curled around Ishida's shoulders, who was laying half on top of him. Renji had snaked one arm under Ishida's neck, his hand cradling Ichigo's head. His other arm was wrapped tightly around Ishida's waist, keeping the man flush against his chest. There was something comforting about laying that way, even though his arm was asleep and his shoulder ached from the pressure. Ishida's body heat was soothing, the gentle press of his back against Renji's chest easing some deep ache between his shoulder blades. He found it tempting to stay in that warm press of bodies, but the smoldering anger returned and it was all he could do not to snarl and scream and _break things_. He clenched his teeth and pulled away slowly, careful not to jar either of his sleeping partners.

Ishida moaned softly in his sleep and reached backwards to grab Renji's hip and hold him in place. Renji gently pried his fingers up and returned them to Ichigo's chest. Ishida hesitated and then curled his fingers in the bandages wrapping Ichigo's bruised chest. Ichigo shifted in response and reached up to lightly take his wrist. Renji untangled himself and rolled away, willfully ignoring the little shiver that ran up Ishida's body and the frown that deepened on his face. Reacting with unconscious attentiveness, Ichigo twisted onto his side and pulled Ishida into his chest. The sight made something in Renji burn with jealously and anger. He wanted very much to drape himself across Ishida's back and keep him warm, to feel the unexpected pleasure of the motion of his breath. But the image of that knot – that horrible, glorious knot- was burned into his mind's eye and he could only seethe at the loss of independence and the invasion of personal space. It felt like rape in too many ways, and it made him tremble with equal parts helpless embarrassment and all-consuming hatred.

Turning away, Renji found his clothing stacked neatly by the door next to 2 similar stacks in blues and blacks. Zabimaru rested next to his clothing, his sheath cleaned and polished to a glistening shine. Renji dressed silently and slid the zanpakutou through his sash. He padded out of the room, hesitating briefly by the door at that feeling in the pit of his stomach again pulling him back towards the warm tangle of bodies. It would be easy enough… just slide back to the floor, crawl back to Ishida's side, and go back to sleep. He could wake up next to them, explain what had happened, help them cope, be a part of the new understanding that would –must- develop between them…

Setting his shoulders, Renji slid the door open and slipped into the hallway. Urahara met him there. He looked marginally better, less pale, less shattered. His coat was back in place, and his hat sat comfortably on his head. Renji was conscious of how much they concealed (those tired eyes in that pale face) and he resisted the urge to simply cock his fist back and punch the other shinigami across his shadowed face.

"You should stay," Urahara said quietly. "Physical contact will make the transition easier."

It would be easier. Shinigami who aimed to become tandem pairs tied themselves together with a short cord and stayed in physical contact almost twenty hours a day for months –sometimes years- to accustom their bodies to one another, to integrate the other person so deeply into their own signature that they became indistinguishable. The trial tested the resolve of the pair and determined whether they had the mental and emotional strength to be that close to another person, to share so much –everything-with them. Even after the trial, the pair had to pass an extensive test administered by their captain. Once they passed it, they still faced years of hard training before they could fully integrate each other's reiatsu. He and Ikkaku had to maintain physical contact for Renji to access the other man's reiatsu, but a true tandem pair could pull on it at will, regardless of the distance separating them. It was something Renji found appealing, and yet...

"I can do it on my own," Renji hissed.

"You don't have to struggle alone," Urahara argued weakly.

He remembered saying much the same to Ishida once – that there was no shame in sharing the burden of his problems with his friends, letting them help him.

"I'm too angry," he ground out finally. "I would only pollute it. Taint it." He glared at Urahara for effect. "I'll handle it on my own."

He turned to walk away, but a soft chuckle from Urahara made him pause. "It's amazing, really. Ishida, so achingly empty and hurting so much… was like gravity. Pulling at any source of reiatsu like a beckoning lover. Any shinigami in a two mile radius would have been drawn to him. Might have even thought..."

His voice trailed off distractedly and Renji's hand tightened on the hilt of his zanpakutou. Ishida's sleeping face swam to the forefront of his mind, his lips parting in sleep… his arm wrapped in Juro's braid, sweat dripping down his neck, unexpectedly powerful body moving sinuously… He'd been jealous then, hadn't he?

"He has more than he can handle now… I would have thought…"

Renji looked over his shoulder to see Urahara in profile. The man smiled softly to himself, his hat pulled low over his eyes.

"Instead of becoming less, pulling less… he's just become more visible, more… just more. Don't you think?"

Renji's shoulders stiffened and he didn't answer. Leaving Urahara to stare at the close door, he stalked away from that pull, the brilliance that was not just Ishida, but Ichigo, perhaps even more Ichigo (all gold and terrifying and beautiful, tempered with the coolness of Ishida's unique signature).

"And Ichigo," Urahara continued, as if reading his mind. Renji could barely hear him as he moved steadily away. "How could he possibly become _bigger_ from this when he should diminish?" The words sounded in the empty hallway like prophecy and made Renji shiver, but he didn't turn back.

He didn't wait until he got outside. As soon as he cleared the close confines of the hallway, he brought his zanpakutou up in front of his face and pushed his sight until he could see the ripples of the fabric separating Soul Society from the human world. With a precise thrust, he pushed Zabimaru into a paper-thin opening and twisted. The fabric resisted and then gave with a click like the tumblers of a lock falling into place. The gateway opened and he stepped through without looking back.


	18. EPILOGUE

EPILOGUE::

Zabimaru watched the sky with a deep scowl. In a matter of moments, his blue sky went from robin's egg to the swirling sullen gray he saw now. Nearly a week had passed since that terrifying day and he was still unsettled. 

He'd been sleeping at the time, his snake aspect curled into the warm fur of his belly. The sun heated the rock beneath him and the drowsy moist warmth of his domain settled about him comfortably like a blanket. The ground lurched, startling him from a dream. Beneath his body, the rock shuddered and cracked. He'd jumped back just in time to keep from plummeting down the mountain to the ravine below. Renji's screams split the air with sudden thunder, startling birds from their perches and shaking fragile flowered trees until they abandoned their colorful foliage in an explosion of petals and perfume.

He could still remember the bone-shattering sound of the sky splitting open. Dark and horrifying and unnatural, a slit opened in the blue sky and in spilled a mad torrent of thunderheads. They rushed over the sky faster than Zabimaru could track. A flash of lightening turned the sky a nauseating gold and rain followed, dropping in icy sheets.

"An attack?" the snake aspect asked.

The ape aspect did not reply. Together they leapt into the tossing winds towards the gaping hole. This place belonged to Renji and Zabimaru. The foreign presence was not welcome and would not be tolerated. Zabimaru was the guardian of the forest and he was strongest there. Wielding the strength of Renji's soul, Zabimaru shoved the rent down to a crack. He could not seal it for the wild reiatsu pouring through it, but he set a portal around it to restrict the opening and prevent it from widening again. The clouds already hanging over the forest remained, insane and filled with electric energy, pent up too long and looking to lash out. It did – blinding bolts that seared the earth and set trees to fire. With Renji unconscious, he could only hide himself away from those bolts and do his best to mitigate the damage.

Six days later, the maelstrom had calmed to swirling power, a dragon that moved lazily in its sleep. At the far end of the valley, a volcano pulled the clouds out of the sky, teasing them down like silk from a cocoon. The wild energy passed through the molten rock there and filtered into the forest, repairing the damage it had wrought in its wildness.

Zabimaru could feel Renji's anger and it added to his unease. He too was angry. For Urahara to tie them to that madness without even a warning-! Zabimaru hunkered down and reached back to stroke his hand over the smooth lines of his snake aspect to calm himself. The snake's hissing quieted and together ape and snake watched the sky. Renji was angry enough without them stirring up his soul any further. With the portal three-quarters closed, they would be able to absorb this. They would be stronger for it. There was nothing that could be done about the connection, so they would use it to become better.

Ichigo did not concern him. Zabimaru respected and admired Zangetsu and felt a certain thrill anytime he crossed blades with that powerful old man. Ichigo was amazing for a human – strong and fearless, filled with resolve and strength of will that endeared him to Zabimaru. But the Other was another story. The Other that lurked in the depths of Ichigo's soul frightened Zabimaru. It was strong – strong and restless and only growing stronger the longer it was repressed. The Other pushed Ichigo past the limits of a soul reaper, far past. If Ichigo and the Other merged, Ichigo could be a monster or a god. Probably both. If the Other took control of Ichigo's remarkable power, the destruction would be beyond imaging. Zabimaru would be consumed, and Renji would not survive it.

"It will not be permitted," the ape and the snake aspect said in one voice of two octaves.

They would destroy Ichigo before that could happen.

~I~I~

Ichigo watched Ishida's profile out of the corner of his eye. The other man leaned back against the window with his eyes closed, small white cords trailing out of his ears. Ichigo could almost hear the music, a steady drone of electronic melody. His own headphones hung around his shoulders, quiet below the clatter-clack-_whoosh_ of the moving train. Ichigo had to keep his hands in his pockets to stop his fingers from intertwining with Ishida's.

Things were subtly different between them. The gulf that stretched between them was somehow deeper for all that it was narrower. Ishida seemed unsure of how to treat this new… thing between them. Ichigo hated all the analyzing. Waking up with Ishida cuddled against his chest was amazingly natural. He wouldn't have let him go at all except that both of them needed to empty their bladders and shower. It was a test of will not to just climb into the shower with Ishida. It wasn't even a sexual desire, though he couldn't deny _that_ was there as well, thrumming and curious. It was almost a phantom sensation… Ishida felt to him like Zangetsu did. Ishida was _part_ of him. It was unnatural not to be next to each other, not to feel the warmth of Ishida's body against his. Keeping his hands to himself while they dressed and listened to his Urahara's explanation of their new partnership was a unique test of will.

Sitting on the train back to school, Ichigo contemplated the strange turn of events and took stock of the way he felt. Cold, for one thing – the jacket he wore zipped up to the throat was not just for show. There was a deeper coldness too which he realized belonged to Renji only after Urahara explained the nature of their connection. The other shinigami's absence was a constant irritation, an icicle pushed between his ribs so it shifted and stung with each movement. He didn't like it – that it was there at all, that Renji was not. Why should he be tied to that guy anyways? He glared without focus in the general direction of the floor. Why did Renji leave in the first place? Jerk.

Next to him, Ishida shifted and the lengths of their arms touched, casual and carrying a charge. Ichigo glanced at Ishida to find him slumped down further, his hands concealed in his blue and white jacket, eyes still closed. He could have been asleep but for the tension in his neck. Ichigo smirked and casually moved his leg until they touched from hip to knee. Ishida shivered and relaxed slowly, his expression easing and head moving slightly with the beat of his electric music.

Ichigo stifled a smile, concealing it with a yawn. He thought they were being pretty inconspicuous, but he caught a girl across the aisle staring at them, her wide dark eyes darting suspiciously between Ishida's relaxed expression and the place where their knees touched. He glared at her until her eyes fluttered up and met his. She blanched, her mouth dropping open in a tiny "o" and then blood flooded her face and neck, turning her scarlet from the collar of her sweater to her hairline. She quickly looked away and brought her textbook up as a shield.

Ishida wouldn't like it if people started thinking they were "together" like that. Ichigo sighed and moved his leg away reluctantly, contenting himself with the warmth of Ishida's arm against his. He almost jumped when Ishida shifted over to bring their legs back in contact. Reiatsu pulsed between them – Ichigo could feel it thrumming through Ishida's body like blood surging through veins. He ducked down into the wide collar of his jacket to hide the smile he couldn't keep off his face. He pushed back against the quincy's leg, a gentle nudge that brought their legs back to a center point.

The girl across the aisle peeked at them over her textbook. Ichigo narrowed his eyes at her and then stretched his neck up so she could see his lips, the challenging smile there. _Go ahead_, he invited. _Say something_.

She froze, staring at him with those too-wide eyes. She blushed again, a gentler expression that softened the edges of her cheeks and made her pretty. She returned his smile like it was some kind of secret between them and then ducked around her textbook again. The cover said "History of the Edo Era." Ichigo recognized it – he had the same textbook stacked up on his desk, unopened. Was she in his class?

He signed and leaned back against the window. The glass was chilly and slightly damp against the back of his head.

"I didn't know you were so interested in history," Ishida intoned quietly. Ichigo glanced over at his companion. Ishida still had his eyes closed, but his jaw was tight with some irritation or other.

Ichigo frowned. "I'm not."

Ishida's eyes flew open and he glared at Ichigo. He jerked his leg away and sat up straighter, putting a few inches between them. "You should go ask her name, then."

His voice might have sounded casual to anyone else, but not Ichigo who could feel Ishida's irritation crackling in the space between them, all prickly static and heat. He cocked an eyebrow at the quincy. "Are you jealous?" he asked finally, a bought of insight making him sit upright.

Ishida jolted like he'd been shocked. He turned to glare at Ichigo through his glasses. His eyes flashed and he whispered, "I'm not your boyfriend, Kurosaki. Of course I'm not jealous." He pursed his lips for good measure and then thumbed the volume up on his music and leaned back once more, closing his eyes.

Ichigo withheld a laugh. He cleared his throat looked up at the ceiling of the train, trying to distract himself enough to keep his laughter at bay. The air between them shivered with the force of Ishida's annoyance. Ichigo was almost annoyed himself – Ishida spent the whole semester running away from him, after all. And it wasn't like the fact their spirit ribbons were tied together could suddenly make Ishida fall in love with him. Why should the man be jealous, then? Ichigo's mild annoyance fled beneath the weight of his smile.

There were other people on the train – not many, since they were returning to school a few days late. But who cared about them, anyways? Without looking over at Ishida, Ichigo pulled one hand out of his jacket and slid it into the oversized pocket concealing Ishida's bow hand and MP3 player. The other man stiffened slightly, but after a brief hesitation his hand relaxed around the small MP3 player enough for Ichigo to push his fingers under the quincy's palm and slide them down until their fingertips touched.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the slight flush to Ishida's cheek as he turned his face away to look out the window.

_I'm going to win you over, Ishida Uryuu,_ Ichigo promised. _I'm going to make you fall in love with me._


	19. END NOTES

End notes –

Please go to my livejournal if you have something to discuss! It is: ladyshadowdrake DOT livejournal DOT com. There are also stories there that are not posted on FFN, so feel free to look around! Thanks everyone for sticking with me!

_Chasing Hallelujah_ is the first of three stories in a wide arc. It will likely be the shortest, and certainly the tamest of the three.

These are rather long as notes, so I've broken them in different cuts so you can read only what you're interested in. My personal request to all my readers: PLEASE FEED THE AUTHOR. I really DO want to know what you think, and I love insightful conversations on fic – it lets me know what I've missed, what you picked up that maybe I didn't (totally happens!), or if I conveyed something that wasn't intentional, missed a plot point, forgot to explain something, etc., etc.,… So please do me that favor and give me your feedback. Thanks so much!

BACKGROUND::

I started writing Chasing Hallelujah when I finished season 3 of the television show. I was really fascinated with Ishida's loss of power and the "how" and "why" of it. I didn't feel like it got enough attention in the series – it really could have been a major plot developer and a lot of new lines of plot could have developed from that one little incident (i.e. instead of the filler arc with the three konpakutou). Instead, it was given parts of some two or three episodes and then it was glossed over. I also thought that Ichigo's sudden inability to sense reiatsu was strange and never really explained well enough for my tastes – he was very sensitive to reiatsu in the beginning and then just abruptly couldn't pick it out anymore. It was given a passing note in an episode and then just assumed from that point forward.

So I came up with a plot to solve both problems.

The next two installments already outlined by chapter, but I haven't started writing them. I mean to distract/appease/pacify everyone with another story that I started writing by request for Inanimaterabbit as a "carrot" for her to do well in school. WELL, she's graduated now, so I really need to follow through on my promise and get it done! A good bit of it is already on the page, so I should be able to provide regular updates while I'm working on the next installment of the _+Hallelujah_ arc. During that process, I mean to write a few one-shots for the _+Hallelujah_ universe, finish up "Companionship" (sequel to "Desire"), work on _Redemption_ (Gundam Wing) and possibly even _Full Moon_ (Twilight), along with a few other randoms in Stargate SGA, possibly The Fast and the Furious… and whatever else strikes my fancy.

Here are the notes for the story, including where the ideas came from with references back to the series – most of the seeds for this story began in season one and coalesced after that fateful episode of season 2 that resulted in the loss of Ishida's power. I've included links to the episodes (available on Hulu in Japanese) if anyone would like a refresher! (For FFN: Hulu dot com, search "Bleach" and select the appropriate episode). I believe this will only work if you are inside the USA – though I could be wrong!

CANON PRECEDENTS::

Ishida loses his Quincy powers: Episode 44:  watch/46540

Ichigo tracks down a very faint reiatsu by sensing and following spirit ribbons: Episode 4  watch/37404

Ishida senses the change in Ichigo's spirit ribbon and is able to physical interact with them (tears one): Episode 11 ( watch/37632)

Ishida utilizes Ichigo's reiatsu to create a significantly larger bow: Episode 14 ( watch/37672)

Ichigo is overwhelmed by flood of reiatsu and Ishida drains it off: Episode 14 ( watch/37672)

FAQ

If you have a question that isn't addressed here, please feel free to ask on this post

Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed consistantly - please stop by the livejournal to make a post so I can chat back with you!

Shortly after posting the most recent chapter, I received two reviews on FFN. The first said "Please don't turn this into a threesome!" and the next said, "I really hope this becomes a threesome!"

Q: Will this be a threesome?

A: Short answer: I don't know.

A: Long answer: It could go either way, and I could change my mind at any point. On the one hand, threesomes are fun to read and challenging to write (things which I like in fic) and they are fairly rare in the fandom world (at least in novel form), which is something that I like to provide. On the other hand… threesomes are challenging to write! It's hard enough to keep two characters In Character when you're creating a third character called Us/We – adding yet another element to the Us/We character is a lot to keep track of.

I've had a few arguments for and against and my betas and I (not to mention myself and I) have been debating this back and forth almost from the onset of the _+Hallelujah_ universe (more than a year at this point). The biggest argument against is that a threesome might reduce the connection between the characters. _Chasing Hallelujah_ has been all about developing deep relationships between the characters. My counter to this argument is that I have spent 98 pages developing the characters, and I am not well known for my ability to produce shallow-character-smut (I am, in fact, pathologically incapable of it even when I'm trying), so I think I could pull it off. Either way, whether it develops into a threesome or not, it will be mostly Ishida/Ichigo WELL into the second installment. If Renji joins in later, it would be a long ways down the line, possibly not until the very end of the second installment, or even into the third.

For the Threesome:

Renji is already attracted to at least Ishida physically and he didn't seem upset at all to wake up cuddled around the two of them. He has also revealed himself to be comfortable with physical displays of affection, and is comfortable enough in his own skin that I don't think he would be at all insecure about being in a polygamous relationship.

Ishida has also proven himself at least content with the idea of multiple, and even non-committed partners. He's shown a growing attraction to both Renji and Ichigo and I think he would be a good mid-point between the two of them. He has the personality and is logical enough that he could easily be the support base for the threesome.

Ichigo's sexual experience is ambiguous in the Chasing Hallelujah universe. In many ways he's utterly oblivious and perhaps even naïve, but he is also the jump-first-and-look-later type. Throughout both canon and the CH Universe, he is more likely to throw himself into a situation head first and deal with the consequences later, then to put rational thought into a decision of this magnitude. He could very easily see the prospect of a threesome as a challenge (particularly between him and Renji). While I see him being a little irritated (at least at first) with "sharing," I can also see him just shrugging it off and embracing the situation.

Against the Threesome: The author is lazy.

Renji has mentioned several times how young Ichigo and Ishida are, and has at least twice referred to them as "children." This may reduce the physical appeal of such a relationship with either of them, no matter how attractive he finds Ishida. The best reference I've found for Renji's age is 2,000. Against 2,000, 20-something looks pretty gosh-darn young.

Though typically stable, Ishida has shown a lot of nervousness and instability recently. He may not be able to cope emotionally with the conflict that would doubtlessly arise with trying to fit three different people into a relationship. Not to mention that Ichigo and Renji would be at each other's throats and competing for Ishida's attention constantly – not only would this drive him crazy, I can see it driving him away from Ichigo and Renji altogether and back to Juro or something…

For all that Ichigo is extremely flexible to strange situations, I can also see him as being stubbornly monogamous – as easily as I can see him being casual and comfortable with sex and multiple partners, I can just as easily see him being a penguin – mates for life. For all that he complains about his dad, he takes after Isshin quite a lot, and Isshin is (at least in canon ;) ) a one-woman man. Sharing Ishida with Renji wouldn't fit well into that concept.

What's coming up next?

The next installment of the _+Hallelujah_ series is currently expected to be 18 chapters + prologue and epilogue, making it a little longer than _Chasing Hallelujah_. It is titled _Breaking Hallelujah_. This installment will back away from the Ishida, Ichigo close ups of _Chasing Hallelujah_ to get a more complete picture of the world at large.

Featuring: Aizen and Hueco Mundo, with semi-frequent guest appearances from Grimmjow Jaegerjaux; Soul Society and Old Man Yamamoto's interest in Ichigo and his friends; Possible appearances from Isshin "Goat Face" Kurosaki, and a little more background on our favorite tattooist: Juro.

Expect to see the Prologue for _Breaking Hallelujah _ up shortly as a teaser for up-and-coming

In other news:

Red Mask (Bleach) Ichigo/Byakuya. NC-17 for violence and sexual content. AU for the war and written as a request fic. Much darker than +Hallelujah, Red Mask will feature a more jaded, adult Ichigo. Currently 50 pages and 4 chapters long, I will start posting this by the end of the month. (Those chapters will be either broken up into smaller posts, OR only posted once every several weeks).

Redemption (Gundam Wing). Various. PG-13- R. An adaptation to Little Mouse's _WarCraft_, Redemption makes use of the same universe with a completely different storyline. AU Fantasy.

Full Moon (Twilight). Edward/Jacob. PG-13-R. Waxing Gibbous was completed half as a joke – I didn't expect to enjoy writing it as much as I did. Full Moon will take the characters out of the comfortable setting of Forks, WA and onto many adventures in this fantasy-epic.

Untitled (SGA). John/Rodney. A giggle to the "Aliens made me do it" cliche that very well may turn into an epic of its own.

Shorts:

"The SGA Cooking Contest." (SGA, undecided) A silly short invented when Fjuri and I were making mini-donuts and wondering whether Rodney would be a good cook or not.

"Desire." (Bleach, Renji/Byakuya, Renji/Hisagi) Sequel to "Companionship" told from Byakuya's POV.

"Should Kill." (Bleach, Ichigo/Renji + Shirosaki) Sequel to "What He Doesn't Know" and "Could Kill." Ichigo tracks a very guilty Renji down in Soul Society to confront him for the relationship Renji and the hollow carried on while he was sleeping.

+Hallelujah One Shots: How _did_ Ishida and Juro come to be?, a Chad POV one-shot, back to high school: Ishida struggling with his lost quincy powers, "Getting to know you"


	20. TEASER:: PROLOGUE TO THE SEQUEL

TEASER::: THIS IS THE PROLOGUE FOR THE SEQUEL TO CHASING HALLELUJAH! Enjoy. :)

PROLOGUE::

SCENE 1: Hueco Mundo

After the human world, Hueco Mundo seemed flat. Grimmjow sulked through the halls of Aizen's palace with his hands in his pockets. The palace was a monument to Aizen's sense of self-importance. The hallways were wide enough for a dozen Grimmjow's to stand shoulder-to-shoulder, with six more Grimmjow's climbing up the walls. Logic might suggest that it was to accommodate the hollows who tramped through the halls, but that wasn't right. No hollows came through here, only Espada.

_Bastard built it just 'cuz. Cocky asshole... showing off._

Grimmjow didn't like to admit it, but it the palace was impressive. With only the force of his massive will, Aizen raised the palace from the gray sands of Hueco Mundo in three days.

_I'm only here as long as your stronger than me,_ Grimmjow reminded the walls. _Soon as I can knock ya down, I'm gone._ Loyalty wasn't one of Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez' resume points.

"Nice night for a stroll, eh, Grimmjow-san?"

Grimmjow glanced sideways, expertly hiding his moment's shock. Gin Ichimaru was a creature of altogether a different breed. The man could sink into a background and disappear while still being perfectly visible. He moved silently, and repressed his reiatsu so that, to a casual observer, he might be a walking statue, a thing without life force. Grimmjow didn't quite know what to think of the shinigami. He wasn't stupid enough to underestimate the creep, but he couldn't be all that spectacular with the way he followed Aizen around like a puppy.

Grimmjow didn't answer him and they walked together in silence, Ichimaru's feet barely whispering beneath the thud of Grimmjow's boots.

"How was the human world?" Ichimaru asked when they neared Aizen's aptly-named throne room.

_Warm._ Grimmjow shrugged one shoulder and made a non-committal noise. He pushed the giant door open with a single finger and an effortless waive of reiatsu. Ichimaru's ever-presence grim grew wider.

"Oh, so strong. It's good thing we have you, Grimm-chan, to open the doors..." He said it like he meant it, and it made the hair on the back of Grimmjow's neck stand up with the force of his irritation. Before he could decide what to do about it, Ichimaru glided past him, his peculiar snake-like swaying momentarily hypnotizing Grimmjow, who stood in the doorway and watched him.

"Back so soon, Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez?"

Aizen's honey-smooth voice startled him out of his daze and he snarled at Ichimaru's back as he stalked into the room. Like the rest of the palace, the throne room was far too large. It seemed to be miles long, black and white marble, pillars on the sides, and the only thing occupying it was Aizen's raised throne. He lounged in it, filling up the room with his sheer presence. Even with miles of empty space, Grimmjow's eyes never left Aizen's pleasant, smiling face.

"Found the kids you wanted. The orange-haired one, the looney with the glasses, the others. All in the same place, nice and neatly tucked away, just waitin' to be plucked up."

Aizen's smile gained an almost seductive quality and he shifted in the cold stone throne so he was leaning forward over his knees. He steepled his fingers and set his chin the cradle to watch Grimmjow.

"The loon you said? Is he cracking already?"

Grimmjow snorted. "Already cracked. But he's got a nice ass, for a human..." He said it just to piss the other man off, but Aizen only laughed, a rich liquid sound that filled up the cavernous room rather than echoing off the walls.

"Then at least you'll have something to stare at."

Grimmjow frowned. "You sending me back?" The idea was both appealing and bothersome. He liked the human world, with all the colors, the warmth, the food – he knew he'd eaten fruit when he was alive, long ago, but he couldn't remember that time, so biting into an apple in the human world was a shockingly pleasant experience. Souls didn't have much of a variety of taste, for all that they were more satisfying than the apple. But he hated being trapped in that fake body – _gigai_, Szyel called it – and not being able to just munch on whatever souls he wanted. Humans weren't as tasty as a strong hollow or a shinigami, but they were plentiful and pitifully unprotected. Unable to draw attention to himself, Grimmjow was put on an interesting though ultimately empty diet of preserved souls and human food. It was miserable – the human food did not satisfy and the preserved souls were tasteless.

"Soon," Aizen murmured, his attention already elsewhere. His eyes unfocused and his smile changed again, something victorious and hungry that pulled at the base of Grimmjow's gut in an unfamiliar and not pleasant way. "You should go eat, Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez. I'm sure you're famished," Aizen suggested, as if reading his mind.

Grimmjow narrowed his eyes and considered the shinigami who called himself their leader. He promised to make a world for hollows, to end the tyranny of the shinigami and tap the abundant food source of the human world. He proclaimed himself a liberator, and styled himself a god. Grimmjow hated that kind of shit. But Aizen was still the strongest, so Grimmjow stayed.

He shrugged his shoulders and turned to stroll casually out of the room, lifting one hand over his shoulder in a casual wave. It might be interesting, watching those humans. He didn't know what Aizen wanted them for, but it promised to be fun at least. Grimmjow felt a grin tugging at his lips and let it out to nudge against his broken mask.

_Maybe I'll have some fun of my own, huh? _

~I~I~

Aizen watched the Espada leave with his head cocked to one side. Of all of his Espada, Grimmjow was the most troublesome, the hardest to control, the most likely to defect. And yet he was predictable: as long as Aizen stayed stronger than him, he would stay and he would follow orders.

"It's almost sad," he commented lowly. Gin moved out of the shadows to stand at the side of the throne. They watched the Espada together, the confident swagger of his hips, the set of his shoulders. "He doesn't even realize that he's only an ant, staring at the moon through a reflection on the lake."

Gin giggled, a light sound that made Aizen smile broadly. He levered himself out of the throne and walked unhurriedly behind it. Gin followed without being ordered; Gin was good about that, always knowing what Aizen needed before he had to ask. It was one of the many things that made Gin Ichimaru precious to him.

Behind the modest throne, a floor to ceiling window looked over the dunes and desolate beauty of Hueco Mundo. He touched the frame of the window, the reason for his giant palace, the singular object that drew him to Hueco Mundo and inspired him to become a god to the witless hollows within. He felt the warmth of the frame beneath his palm and caressed it gently, his fingers following the smooth lines of what was not really a window at all, but harbinger of a new world, the doorway to his godhood.

"We can be patient yet," he told the window. Next to him, Gin reached out with one long hand and ran his fingers through Aizen's hair and down the back of his neck. He arched his neck in invitation and the other shinigami moved behind him to set both hands on his shoulders and knead at the muscles there.

"You should relax, Aizen-sama... so tense."

The man's voice was playful and Aizen found himself in the mood to play.


End file.
